IMOGEN HAVING BEEN DULY appreciated, and Jane given an update on the White Lodge investigation, leaving out Rachita’s disappearance, Fran, Libby and Ben went back down to Coastguard Cottage. Fran made tea, then she and Libby returned to the kitchen, where Libby got under her feet, under the impression that she was helping, and Ben sat reading a paper in the window seat with Balzac on his lap.
Sophie had been invited to supper as well, but she said Adam was coming over and they were having a take-away.
‘She said they might pop in after they’ve eaten,’ said Guy when he arrived after closing the shop.
‘I think you see more of my son than I do these days,’ said Libby.
‘Not much,’ said Fran, accepting a glass of white wine from her husband. ‘They tend to stay closeted in the flat. Young lurve, eh?’
‘Hmm.’ Libby sipped her own glass of red. ‘Young lust, more likely.’
‘Libby!’ Ben said, appalled, but Fran and Guy laughed.
Conscious of the fact that Ben wouldn’t be able to drink more than one glass of wine, Fran served up early, and they were just finishing their fruit and cheese at half past seven when there was a knock on the door.
‘Ian!’ Guy held the door open and Ian stepped inside.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I should have rung, but I was actually looking for Sophie.’
‘She’s in the flat.’ Fran stood up. ‘You sit down and have a cup of coffee and we’ll ask her to come over here. I don’t suppose you’ve eaten, have you?’
‘Well, no,’ said Ian, sitting on the chair that Guy pulled up to the table for him, ‘but I don’t want to interrupt.’
‘Help yourself to cheese,’ said Fran handing him a plate. ‘I’ll get you a cup.’
When Ian had been supplied with food and drink and Sophie had been summoned, he looked round the assembled company and laughed.
‘Here we are again,’ he said, ‘and I suppose you’re going to ask me more questions.’
‘Only if you’re allowed to answer them,’ said Libby, looking hopeful.
‘We won’t know that until you ask them, will we?’ said Ian, cutting himself a piece of brie.
‘Why don’t you just tell us anything you can,’ suggested Guy, ‘especially, of course, what it was about Sophie’s information that you said fitted.’
Ian paused to eat his brie and cut a slice of apple.
‘Well,’ he continued, ‘as I’m sure you’ve guessed, our bodies in the barn are all from the Asian community.’
There was a collective sigh.
‘That’s why I said it isn’t a serial killer. It’s more likely to be a burial place for honour killings, and I’m sure that’s the conclusion you’ve come to.’
‘Only today,’ said Libby. ‘It was Sophie telling us about Rachita. We thought she might have run away because of a boyfriend or something.’
‘We don’t know of course – ah – is that Sophie?’
Sophie, looking nervous, came in followed by Adam, who came and gave his mother a quick kiss before sitting next to his beloved on the sofa.
‘I was just explaining, Sophie – you don’t mind me calling you Sophie, do you?’ Sophie shook her head. ‘I was explaining that the bodies buried in the barn are all Asian girls. So after you gave me their address, I went to call on Rachita’s family.’ He sighed. ‘Who were furious and exceedingly unhelpful.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said Sophie. ‘I hope Rach isn’t in trouble.’
‘I never mentioned you, or her,’ said Ian. ‘I merely said that we were concerned about the whereabouts of many Asian girls who hadn’t been seen in the community recently.’ He sighed again. ‘Her father hit the roof. You know – nosy neighbours, racial prejudice, police brutality – you name it, he said it. Then mother interrupted and said Rachita had gone to stay with an aunt in London for the summer as she was bored down here, and would be back at the beginning of term. Even told me the address of the aunt.’
They all looked at each other.
‘So that’s the end of that,’ said Libby. ‘Complete red herring.’
‘No,’ said Ian.
‘No?’ echoed several voices.
‘We rang the local nick in London, who confirmed that there was such an address, a large block of council flats, apparently and they actually had a patrol car there at that very moment.’
‘Sounds like a TV programme,’ muttered Ben.
‘Quite. So, they asked the two guys to check out the address. I got the report back about ten minutes later. The woman who answered the door very obviously didn’t know what they were talking about and assumed at first that Rachita – who is her niece, by the way – was missing. Then she realised and tried to cover up. While they were still with her, her phone rang, but she wouldn’t answer it, so they concluded that it was someone this end trying to warn her.’
‘So she’s not there?’ said Fran.
‘No. So they are actually trying to cover up the fact that she’s missing.’
‘Oh, God.’ Sophie put her head in her hands.
‘It doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s one of our bodies,’ said Ian. ‘She may have run away. But we need to find out.’ Ian leant forward and touched Sophie’s arm. ‘That’s why we need your help.’
Sophie looked horrified. ‘How can I help? They won’t let me into the house.’
‘But you can call Rachanda, can’t you?’
‘Her phone goes straight to voicemail,’ said Sophie. ‘I’ve tried.’
Ian sat back, looking annoyed. ‘What we really need is a DNA sample.’
‘Could you go and say you’ve checked in London and she’s not there? And you need a DNA sample to try and trace her? They might genuinely believe she’s at her auntie’s.’ Libby looked hopeful, but doubtful.
‘They would accuse us of interfering again and we’d probably end up with a complaint.’ Ian sighed. ‘Do you know when Rachanda last saw her, Sophie?’
Sophie shook her head. ‘She just said three weeks.’
‘Do they all go out to work?’ asked Ian.
‘No. Rach’s mother and grandmother stay at home. Rach works for one of the uncles in the office, bookkeeping and stuff, I think.’
‘What about her father? He was at home yesterday afternoon.’
‘He’s usually at the shop. Rachita helped him there sometimes.’
‘Was that the shop you used to go to on the way home from school?’ asked Fran.
‘No, that was an uncle’s. Rach’s dad’s shop is just round the corner from their house. On the corner, actually.’
Ian stood up impatiently. ‘Nothing we can do, then. The most recent death, as far as the pathologist can tell us, was roughly two weeks ago. The others are more difficult, but nothing over a couple of years according to remaining clothing.’
‘No identifying wallets or anything?’ asked Libby.
‘Nothing. Labels in the clothes, such as they are, are all high street.’
‘No saris?’ said Sophie.
‘No.’ Ian frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Because both Rach and her sister wore saris. Even to school.’
‘But if she was running away, or seeing a boyfriend she wouldn’t,’ said Fran. ‘And that’s another thing. If she really is missing, what will her family say when the school asks where she is at the beginning of term?’
‘And we’re nearly at the end of August already,’ said Guy, ‘so that won’t be long.’
‘I suppose we can’t do anything about it.’ Ian sat down again. ‘We can’t identify any of them, so the experts are going to go into all the more esoteric dating techniques which I don’t understand. That will take weeks, so we may as well seal the place up and get on with everything else.’
‘Have they taken all the soil samples and that sort of thing at the barn?’ asked Libby.
‘They’re still there, but it’s winding down now. They’re trying to establish the route taken to get in there, as there should be traces from the most recent body, but no luck so far.’
‘There were when Libby and I went there,’ said Fran. ‘We could see where there’d been fairly fresh cuts. On the undergrowth on the bank.’
‘Really?’ Ian frowned. ‘Then why haven’t we found them?’
‘Someone covered them up?’ said Guy.
‘You can’t cover that sort of thing,’ said Ben. ‘The actual plant – what was it, Fran? Hawthorn? Something like that?’
‘It had whippy green stems. Like thin willow.’
‘They could have uprooted the whole thing and covered up the traces in the ground. But that would mean someone was watching all the time.’
‘Colonel Weston,’ said Libby and Fran together.
‘What?’ Ian looked startled.
‘He lives in Ashton Court,’ said Fran.
‘Yes, I know who he is,’ said Ian, ‘but what about him?’
‘He said he could see the barn and everything from the top floor of his house,’ said Libby. ‘He even asked us to go and have a look.’
‘Did he now?’ said Ian. ‘Could it have been to warn you?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Libby. ‘I didn’t think so at the time, although he was bloody nosy when we first went into the pub.’
‘Probably thinks of himself as the local squire,’ said Ben.
‘Maybe, but he also owns the pub. Although a lot of landowners owned the whole village, didn’t they, so I suppose that’s not all that odd.’
‘Perhaps we ought to go back and have a word with Colonel Weston,’ said Ian.
‘Or it could have been Mr Vindari,’ said Libby. ‘He saw me when I first went there, and when we went with Rosie. He obviously watches what’s going on.’
Ian sighed. ‘They’ll all have to be talked to again,’ he said and stood up. ‘Thanks for the coffee and cheese, Fran.’ He turned to Sophie. ‘And thanks for coming down, Sophie. I’ll try not to involve you any more.’
‘Well,’ said Libby, when he’d gone. ‘He’s never normally that forthcoming, is he?’
‘He is when he’s stumped,’ said Fran. ‘It does look bad for Rachita, Sophie.’
‘I know.’ Sophie shook her head. ‘I can’t bear it. How do you two cope when you’re involved in these awful cases?’
‘It’s not so hard for us,’ said Libby. ‘It’s not usually people we know.’
‘You knew a lot of people over at Creekmarsh,’ Adam reminded her.
‘Yes, but we didn’t know the victims, did we?’ said Fran.
‘No, but -’ began Adam grudgingly. His mother interrupted.
‘It doesn’t matter, Ad. It’s just very hard for Sophie because her friend’s family are involved. Maybe not in this case, but certainly something, or they’d have admitted they didn’t know where Rachita is.’
‘You don’t think it’s an honour killing, do you?’ asked Sophie in a small voice.
‘I’m sure it isn’t.’ Guy went and sat on the arm of the sofa, his arm round his daughter’s shoulders. ‘I think she’s run away and they’re ashamed to admit it. Especially if she’s gone with a boy.’
Sophie’s forehead wrinkled in a frown. ‘But I wouldn’t have said she was like that. She was so focussed on her work. She wants to be a scientist – or a biologist.’
‘And she’s a seventeen-year-old girl,’ said Fran. ‘All hormones and emotion. And if she sees her family as a barrier to going to university, she’s bound to see them as a barrier to everything else, too, especially love. Doesn’t that make sense?’
‘Except that she would want to go back to school, as I said earlier, to get her A levels. And knowing the family, if she goes back to school, they can get her back home.’ Sophie laid her head on her father’s arm. ‘Thank goodness for enlightened parents.’
‘What will Ian do now?’ asked Ben, as he helped Libby and Fran to clear the table.
‘What he said, I suppose,’ said Libby. ‘Wait for dating evidence from the experts. And follow up any missing person reports that might be relevant. I don’t envy whoever has to do that.’
‘And meanwhile, he still has the other enquiry.’ Guy came into the kitchen.
‘Well, at least that’s not murder,’ said Ben. ‘And he knows who the victims are.’
‘Not exactly who they were,’ said Libby, ‘just what they were.’
‘But there’s murder there, too,’ said Fran from the sink.
‘Well, mistaken murder,’ said Libby. ‘More manslaughter, I would have thought.’
‘Not them,’ said Fran without turning round. ‘Paul Findon.’