Cage of Bones

‘No… ’

‘He was found dead in his hotel last night. Murdered.’

She turned away from him. ‘Oh my God… ’

‘Yeah. So I’m following up every lead I can.’

Lynn Windsor’s head was down, eyes on the floor. Her shoulders heaved as she sighed. She looked up.

‘You’d… you’d better… better step inside my office.’

She entered her office. Mickey followed, closing the door behind him. They sat down at either side of the desk.

‘Right,’ she said. She leafed through a pile of papers in a distracted manner, not making eye contact with him. ‘Tell me again what happened and what you want.’

‘I want to know why Adam Weaver was here yesterday. Who he was seeing, what he was discussing, what business he had.’

‘He was seeing my boss. As to what they were discussing… ’ She shrugged. ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t say.’

‘Could I talk to your boss, please.’ No question, just a statement.

‘He’s… not here at the moment. Out all day. Don’t know when he’ll be back.’ She looked up at him, eyes on him, darting quickly away. ‘Sorry.’

Mickey knew when he was being lied to. He also knew when stating that fact helped him and when it didn’t. He didn’t think now was the right time. Wouldn’t get results.

‘I will have to talk to him. At some point.’

‘Well I’ll run it by him, see if he’s OK with that.’

‘Lynn, it’s not a question as to whether he’s OK with it. This is a murder investigation. I can get a warrant if I have to.’

Yeah, he thought, I could. But it’s a hell of a lot of effort just to have a conversation. He was sure Lynn knew that too, but if she did, she wasn’t letting on.

‘I realise that,’ she said, ‘but it’s not my decision to make. As I said, I’ll put it to him.’

‘Thank you. Appreciated.’ He gave a smile.

She returned it. Briefly.

‘Of course, whether he’ll be able to tell you anything… I couldn’t say. Client confidentiality and all that.’

‘Of course,’ said Mickey. He sensed that was as much as he was going to get, dropped it. Gave her another smile. ‘Well, thank you.’

She smiled too, nodded.

Mickey looked at Lynn Windsor, head down, rearranging papers on her desk, toying with a paper clip in her fingers, and knew there was something wrong. Or at least something she was unhappy about. Tense.

‘You OK?’ he said.

She jumped. Dropped the paper clip. ‘Yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘I don’t know.’ He smiled, sat back. Not professional interest, the move said, more personal. ‘You just seem a bit… distracted.’

‘Oh. Yes.’ Head down once more. Another sigh. ‘I suppose… ’ She looked up again. ‘Just… split up with my boyfriend.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

She nodded. Looked at the papers on her desk. Looked up again. ‘Have you got… anyone, Detective?’

Mickey felt his cheeks reddening. Anni’s face came into his mind’s eye. ‘Erm, no. Not really.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Not really?’

‘No.’ Anni’s face disappeared. He felt the beginnings of an erection. ‘No. There’s no one.’

Lynn Windsor nodded. Sat back, crossed her legs. Smiled. Mickey’s eyes were immediately drawn to her breasts. He tried not to look. Failed. Kept his eyes glued to hers.

She smiled again, well aware of what he had just done. ‘I’ve still got your number… Mickey.’

He swallowed. His throat had gone dry. ‘Yeah, yes. You have.’

‘Shall I call you if there are… developments?’

‘I… ’ The room suddenly felt very hot. Uncomfortable. ‘Yes. That would be… I’d… yes.’

He couldn’t believe the way he was behaving. This was textbook, he thought. The kind of scenario every copper dreamed about. How many pub tales and fantasies had revolved around this kind of situation? And here he was, tongue-tied and blushing. Not very Sweeney.

‘Good.’ She smiled again. ‘I might just do that.’

He returned the smile. She looked away.

‘Well, I’d better get on with some work.’ She stood up. ‘Very nice to see you again. Good luck, and… I’ll be in touch.’

‘I… I look forward to it.’

Mickey got up and left the room.

Outside, he shook his head as he walked away.

‘I look forward to it,’ he said out loud. ‘Tit.

’ But he was smiling as he said it.

54

Phil walked the grounds of the hotel. He didn’t need a guide.

The place felt familiar to him, but it was a kind of dream familiarity. Like he had never visited in real life or during waking hours, but knew his way round none the less.

Phil was firmly a rationalist, didn’t believe in any kind of psychic phenomena. Even turned the TV off, swearing at it, when Most Haunted came on. But standing in the grounds, the trees around him, the river behind him, the way he was feeling now, what he was experiencing… he couldn’t say. All bets were off.

He put his palm on the nearest tree. A huge old oak. Felt… he didn’t know what. Rough bark, lichen, on a physical level. But beyond that, age, the centuries that the tree had stood there for. Something that had been living long before him and would continue to do so long after he had gone. A permanence. A rightness with nature.

Hand still in place, he closed his eyes. Tried to feel beyond that, reach for something else, some reason for the connection he was experiencing to this area, this place. Eyes closed tight, screwed up. He felt… he felt… nothing.

Opened his eyes again. Took his hand away quickly, hoping no one had seen him do it. The kind of behaviour Glass would use against him. Mark him down as a tree hugger, a liberal, even. A danger to the team. A maverick. Phil would have smiled if he thought Glass wouldn’t have meant it.

The hotel was beyond the trees. Beyond that was a golf course. Phil felt no affinity with that, no reason to go there. Strange. He wondered why. Apart from the fact that he hated golf. So following his instinct, he turned and walked down towards the river.

The water, flowing fast, clear, looked cold. The trees on both sides of the bank were losing their leaves, carpeting the forest floor or dropping into the water, the current bearing them away.

It was Phil’s favourite time of the year. He would have found the view beautiful, calming, restful. If not for the nagging inside his head.

And the murder inquiry.

He walked down to the river’s edge. The bank showed roots, twisted and gnarled, bare where the moving water had eroded the earth. Sticking out ready to catch the ankle of an unobservant walker.

On the opposite side, a tree had been uprooted and fallen backwards. Probably in a storm or during a harsh winter. It was quite remarkable. The roots had fanned out into a large semicircle, making a natural bay for the water to run into. Or an animal amphitheatre, he thought, smiling. Where the woodland creatures could perform Tales of the Riverbank.

He looked further into it. Saw the twisting roots, but became aware of something beyond them. He knelt down on his side of the bank, tried to peer closer. Tunnels. He could see tunnels. Probably an animal. Rabbits or badgers,