was exposed, but his face and hands looked thin to the point of gauntness. He was unshaven, and his dark hair was receding.
The interior of the caravan was strewn with clothes, and a number of empty lager cans stood on the drainer by the tiny sink. A scatter of papers and magazines lay on the table next to a little portable TV set, but Cooper was afraid to touch them. Best to let the SOCOs sort them out after the body had been removed.
‘I presume he lived on his own,’ said Hitchens later, as he stood well clear of the smell.
‘Yes, I think it would be safe to say that, sir.’
‘What else have we got, Ben?’
Cooper flicked open his notebook. ‘He’s known as Simon Nichols, but that’s probably not his real name. He’s aged about fifty-five, and he’d lived here for eight months. The caravan belongs to the farmer, who doesn’t seem to have asked many questions.’
‘I hope he didn’t pay too much rent. I’ve never seen such a dump.’
‘I gather it was in exchange for his work on the farm. Free accommodation and probably less than the minimum wage. It was originally used for accommodating foreign students who came over in the summer to help with the harvest. But this farm hasn’t produced a decent crop for years.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘Didn’t you notice the field on the way in? It’s full of bracken and ragwort. The place has been neglected.’
‘OK. And this is Nikolov?’
‘Well, Nichols certainly wasn’t his real name. Mr Finney admits that his worker wasn’t British. He never asked him about his nationality, but guessed he might be Polish. Nichols didn’t speak much English, only what he needed to get by.’
‘I bet “beer” was a word he knew,’ said Hitchens.
A Scientific Support van crawled into the field and parked next to the silage bags. Wayne Abbott got out.
‘My God, this took some finding.’
‘Better get the masks out, Wayne,’ said Hitchens. ‘We’re going to need you to take this caravan apart.’
Flood lamps were already up, and a crime-scene tent was going over the caravan.
‘I asked Wayne to bring a gunshot residue kit,’ said Hitchens. ‘I don’t know how this man is connected to Rose Shepherd, but we’re not going to miss anything.’
The latest GSR kit was designed for a presumptive test at the scene, and another in the lab later. Previous tests had involved swabbing the hands of a suspect and sending the swabs to a lab. Since results from the scanning electron microscope took weeks or even months, many officers had saved time by just not bothering with GSR.
‘Negative. Sorry,’ said Abbott a few minutes later.
‘Damn.’
‘There’s hardly any food in this caravan,’ said Cooper. ‘Just cans of beer and half a bottle of vodka. He looks ill, too.’
‘Dead people usually do,’ said Hitchens.
‘Not always.’
The DI ran a hand across his forehead. ‘No, you’re right, Ben.’
Cooper took a walk around the field where the caravan was sited. There were lots of gaps in the drystone walls, easy enough for anyone to get in or out of the area without having to come down the track or past the farmhouse.
‘If the farmer can be believed, Simon Nichols lived a quiet, reclusive life and was hardly seen in daylight, except when he was working.’
‘Great,’ said Hitchens. ‘He’s already starting to sound like Rose Shepherd.’
21
‘You see what I meant about not being able to cut yourself off completely?’ Fry said later, when she had Cooper and Murfin together in the CID room.
‘Miss Shepherd, you mean?’ said Cooper.
‘Of course. She not only had the postman, the meter reader, and God knows who else coming by the house, but she was forced to have Eric Grice in to do a few odd jobs, the repairs she couldn’t manage.’
‘I wonder if he was handy for a few
Fry gave him a look. ‘She had to take a gamble on Eric, didn’t she?’ she said. ‘It must have been a toss-up whether to get a complete stranger in every time she needed something doing, or to stick to one local man. She must have known Eric would talk about her in the village, but she decided a bit of gossip was preferable to having people in the house she knew nothing about. At least she could be sure that Eric was the genuine article.’
‘Yes, she had to let someone a little way into her life,’ said Cooper. ‘I wonder if Mr Grice realizes how privileged he was.’
‘Privileged, right.’ Fry began to count on her fingers. ‘Then there was the estate agent and the solicitor. She wasn’t in a position to buy a property without professional help, and they had to know something about her. Her bank account details, for a start.’
‘And — ’
Fry held up another finger. ‘And then she met Lindsay Mullen in Matlock Bath.’
‘But do you think that was entirely by chance, Diane? A random encounter between strangers? Or could there have been some connection between them?’
‘Maybe she wanted to give Lindsay something?’ said Murfin.
‘Why, Gavin?’
‘Miss Shepherd seems to have known that she was in danger and people were trying to find her. What if she had an item in her possession that she didn’t want anyone to get hold of? Why not pass it on to someone entirely unconnected? A stranger, in fact.’
Fry began to move restlessly around the office. She walked to the window and back again towards her desk, as if a change in the direction of the light might help her to see things more clearly.
‘If she did that, she was sealing Lindsay Mullen’s fate,’ she said. ‘It looks as though Rose Shepherd was already being watched when she went into Matlock Bath that day, doesn’t it? And whoever was watching her must also have followed Lindsay home.’
‘Why would Miss Shepherd pick on Lindsay to talk to?’
‘Why pick on anybody? For heaven’s sake, who buttonholes complete strangers in cafes and engages them in conversation?’
‘Drunks and nutters,’ said Murfin.
‘Exactly. And Rose Shepherd was neither of those.’
‘Well, she had to be a bit odd. This woman was a hermit with a secrecy obsession.’
‘That’s right. You don’t have to be a complete nutter,’ said Cooper. ‘Rose Shepherd had cut herself off for so long, perhaps she just wanted a few minutes of ordinary conversation, even with a complete stranger. In fact, a stranger is a better choice. They don’t know anything about you, or your past. So they don’t start off with preconceptions about you.’
‘If she was that desperate, why didn’t she talk to Eric Grice? Whenever he came to Bain House, Miss Shepherd kept herself out of the way and refused to engage in conversation.’
‘Maybe she was afraid that, once she started talking, she wouldn’t be able to stop. She couldn’t risk it.’ Cooper looked up at her. ‘You know what it’s like yourself. When you’ve got something preying on your mind and you find someone easy to talk to, it all comes spilling out.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh, well — maybe not you, Diane.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, and meant it.
‘But take it from me, it works that way with a lot of people. You can find yourself telling everything to some
