After a preparatory spit, the gardener bent down and, with a loud grunt, like a Wimbledon star striving to serve an ace, he heaved the metal cover to one side. A small dark opening appeared.
The moment Alf Swallow glanced down into the well, his eyes widened. His face grew dark as scorn gave way to horror, and he swore with primitive savagery.
Daniel’s gorge rose. He’d dreaded this. Tried to persuade himself that it was not possible.
Louise gave a strangled cry. ‘What…what is it?’
Daniel stepped forward, pushing past the gardener to see for himself. The well hole was a black abyss. When he knelt down by the edge and peered inside, the stench hit him like a blow from a knuckleduster. He recoiled, but with a frantic effort, managed not to fall down.
Wedged fifteen feet below ground level, before the hole narrowed to nothingness, was the bruised and broken body of a man in shirt and trousers, not dressed for outdoors, let alone for the cold underground. He’d curled up into a foetal ball — whether to ward off blows, or to avoid confronting the fate that awaited him, Daniel dared not guess. The face was hidden, thank God, for the insects must have been busy. No question about the corpse’s identity, though. No mistaking that proud mane of dark hair, even though now it was dirty and matted with blood.
The gardener had been wrong.
For once, Stuart Wagg had not fallen on his feet.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘Hannah, you’ve heard the news?’
Daniel’s voice was low and tense and disturbingly good to hear. She pressed the mobile closer to her ear. He’d rung the moment she hurried out of the well-lit entrance of Divisional HQ into the night. It had been a long and hard day and it wasn’t about to improve. Tonight she had to confront Marc about Bethany Friend.
‘Stuart Wagg is dead.’
‘Louise and I found the body.’
‘Horrible for you. I’m sorry.’
‘Louise has never seen a corpse before.’
‘Is she OK?’
‘Shocked, as you’d expect. He was so wrong for her, but she can’t understand why someone murdered him.’
‘Assuming he was murdered. Until the forensic people have finished-’
‘His head was badly wounded and he’d been shoved down an old well which was then covered up. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he could climb out. I really don’t think there’s any chance of accident or suicide, do you?’ He paused for breath. ‘Hey, this is a bad idea. You’re a chief inspector, it’s more than your job’s worth to discuss what has happened.’
She dug her nails into her palm.
‘I didn’t mean-’
‘Louise is a suspect, bound to be.’ He groaned. ‘Stupid of me to call. As a matter of fact, I don’t have an alibi myself.’
‘Don’t talk nonsense.’
He didn’t reply. One of the senior women from Legal stepped into a pool of light cast by the security lamps. She waved as she headed at a brisk clip for her people carrier at the other end of the car park. Hannah waved back and mouthed goodnight.
She softened her tone. ‘Listen, I’m glad you rang me. You want to meet?’
‘Thanks, but I don’t want you to feel compromised,’ he muttered.
‘This isn’t my case, there’s no question of compromising me.’ She was far from certain about that, but what the hell? She was sick of trying to do the right thing. ‘You and I are friends. Your dad was my boss. Nobody can stop us having a conversation.’
A pause.
‘You’re sure?’
‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’
Despite himself, he laughed. ‘All right, you’ve persuaded me. When?’
‘When suits you?’
A pause. ‘I suppose there’s no chance of later tonight?’
And then there were two. The last customer had long gone when Mrs Beveridge finished cashing up and disappeared into the evening cold. Cassie put the
‘Goodnight, Marc.’
‘Your car’s fixed, I hope?’
She shook her head. ‘The garage said it will be a couple more days. No problem, the bus journey gives me a chance to unwind.’
‘Am I such a taskmaster that you need an hour to unwind?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘What time is your bus?’
She clicked her tongue in annoyance as she checked her watch. ‘Bummer. I just missed one. Never mind. I think they run every half hour.’
‘In January? You’ll be lucky. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a lift.’
‘Very kind, but I don’t want to take you out of your way again.’
‘It’s not out of my way at all.’ He spun round quickly, before she could protest, then called back over his shoulder.‘Give me five minutes.’
As he busied himself, quite unnecessarily, behind the closed door of his office, he told himself this was what she wanted. No harm in it, he deserved a bit of pleasure. Especially after Hannah had concealed her encounter with Daniel Kind. But he didn’t want things to get out of hand.
‘Ready?’ he asked, emerging from his retreat as soon as the stipulated five minutes were up.
‘When you are.’
He set the alarm and followed her outside. The courtyard was deserted. As he locked up, she stamped her feet. He could hear her teeth chattering.
‘God, it’s freezing.’
‘See, I couldn’t let you hang around in the dark, waiting for a bus that might never show up.’
‘I can’t believe you’re my boss,’ she said. ‘Some of the other people I’ve worked for simply couldn’t care less about their staff. But you’re so kind.’
He zipped the shop keys up in his shoulder bag. ‘Perhaps I’m just not very good at being a boss.’
Her smile glittered in the night. ‘You shouldn’t do yourself down all the time. You’re fantastic.’
‘And you’re very good for my morale.’ For a moment, his hand touched hers. Her flesh was cold. ‘You were right, you are freezing.’
She took a couple of strides towards where he was parked. ‘I’ll need to warm up when I get home.’
They climbed into the car. ‘If you like, I’ll buy you a Jameson’s at the godforsaken pub.’
She fastened her seat belt, and smoothed her coat down, demure as a nun. ‘I don’t think so, thanks all the same.’
‘Up to you.’
The car seemed as quiet as a hearse. To break the silence, he switched on the radio. Duffy, covering a Sixties heartbreaker, begging her lover:
