Dryden had no time to dwell on the series of moonlit crimes. Outside in Market Street the world was beginning to stir: a street-cleaning lorry ground its gears while the lights at a newsagent flickered on in the damp gloom.
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Ely police launched a murder hunt today (Tuesday) after a man was shot through the head in a bizarre execution on the site of the town’s wartime PoW camp.
The body of the senior archaeologist working on the site to uncover Anglo-Saxon remains was found early this morning in one of the trenches dug by his team at the old California camp.
DS Bob Cavendish-Smith, the senior officer at the scene, said, ‘This was a cold-blooded and ruthless execution. We are confident that the culprit will be found soon.’
A full pathologist’s report is as yet unavailable but it is understood detectives have been told the victim died of a gunshot wound to the face, delivered at close range.
The victim was Prof. Azeglio Valgimigli, of the University of Lucca in Tuscany. He was the leader of an international team trying to uncover early 6th-century remains at the former PoW camp site. He was 39, married, with no children.
Police confirmed that they had been watching the site after a Regional Crime Squad warning that thieves specializing in raiding archaeological sites were operating in eastern England.
Ely police had warned Prof. Valgimigli of the danger and last week the site’s guard dogs were poisoned, although no items of value appear to have been taken. The archaeologist slept on the site in a bid to increase security.
Police will also be probing links between the killing and the discovery last week of a body in a tunnel underneath the former PoW camp. It is thought the dead man was Serafino Amatista, a PoW suspected of being involved in a robbery in 1944 which resulted in the death of a servant at Osmington Hall, north of Southery.
‘There are clearly several lines of enquiry in this case,’ said DS Cavendish-Smith. ‘We are following them all as quickly as possible. We are confident the scene of crime has provided us with crucial forensic evidence.’
Prof. Valgimigli had lived in Italy since leaving the Fens, where he was born, after completing a degree at the University of Cambridge. Police were today trying to contact his family to inform them of his tragic and brutal killing.
How our reporter found the body – page XX
Murder site could hold royal treasure – page XX
Dryden rechecked the main story and then dashed out another 500 words of colour, describing how a late-night visit to interview Valgimigli had ended in the discovery of his corpse. Then he wrote 250 words on the finding of the rein rings, the possibility that it could be the site of an Anglo-Saxon royal burial, and some facts and figures to show how rare the find would be, if authentic.
He looked at the clock: 9.35. He had time for one chore. Family. He extracted the card he’d picked up at Alder’s funeral parlour. He filled in an e-mail address on screen and typed out the message:
A brief line to confirm that I’d like Alder’s to complete a house clearance – actually a barn clearance in this case. Please contact Roger Stutton, Buskeybay Farm, near Little Ouse – Tel: 01353 66884. He has sorted the stuff – mostly furniture and memorabilia left by my mother, but some items much older – and should have put aside anything he wishes to keep. Everything else should go, preferably by auction.
He heard heavy steps rising towards the newsroom, like those of a man climbing a scaffold. Charlie Bracken, the news editor, was serving out his time until retirement; unfortunately this amounted to the small matter of twenty years. You wouldn’t know he was 45 to look at him, drink having disfigured those parts of his face left unblemished by nicotine.
Dryden could tell his mood by his blood pressure, a spectrum of stress stretching from pink potato blotches to traffic-light red. This morning he was a glistening amber, which Dryden guessed had something to do with the radio earpiece he was wearing.
The relief on his face when he saw Dryden was theatrical. ‘Murder?’ he mouthed, still listening to the news report. Dryden refilled his coffee.
‘You got this?’ said Charlie, pointing stupidly at the radio.
‘I found the body,’ said Dryden. ‘I’ve written a news story, and two backgrounders. They’ll be in your basket in ten minutes. Then I’ve got a coupla stories out – I’ll try and get the widow. I can check the biog facts with her. I’ll ring in any adds.’
‘Good boy,’ said Bracken, his eyes involuntarily flickering to the window and the Fenman bar beyond. With a bit of luck he’d be in there by noon for the ritual post-deadline staff piss-up. Dryden, not averse to such occasions, had work to do first: he had to witness an eviction and harass a widow.
22
Cowardice thrives under cover and the bailiffs had called on Vee Hilgay early that morning, as the fog shrouded the Jubilee Estate. Humph, nosing the Capri forward, stopped when he saw furniture out on the street: the smart Ikea chairs and table, an oak bed which Dryden guessed might have come from Osmington Hall and a standard lamp with a bright orange shade. A single wicker Lloyd-loom chair stood on the lawn and Vee Hilgay sat in it, looking small and crumpled, wrapped in a donkey jacket. Russell Flynn stood loitering, hands in pockets, his flame-
