The sergeant checked his notes. ‘A dog, sir, Major by name.’
‘I’m not going to get much by interviewing a dog, am I, Sergeant?’ said Turnbull with heavy sarcasm and a roll of the eyes. ‘What’s the name of his owner?’
The sergeant checked his notes again. ‘It’s a Mr Morgan, he’s standing over there.’ He pointed off to the right towards a middle-aged man on his own, a docile Labrador on a lead chewing a toy at his feet.
Turnbull grunted once. ‘Sam, get on to the doctor and the CSI team, find out when they will arrive. Sergeant—?’
‘It’s Morrison, Sergeant Bob Morrison.’
‘Sergeant, extend the perimeter out to the top of the lane and start signing new arrivals in. This is a crime scene and you need to implement all the usual protocols.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Harry, you’re with me.’ He strode off towards the body.
‘What do you want me to do?’
Turnbull turned back as if noticing Emily Parkinson for the first time. ‘Check out what’s down there.’ He pointed airily down a path leading through the Ees to the river.
Turnbull ploughed through, pushing aside the branches of the trees in his way, letting them fall back against Harry Makepeace. Within six yards, they could see the outline of a body, lying in a small glade behind the trees.
They forced aside the last few branches and stepped into the edge of the glade.
They could see the body more clearly now. It was naked with two arms stretched out at either side like Jesus on the cross. The eyes were open, staring sightlessly up to the sky, and a rope was still wound around the small boy’s thin neck like a hemp collar.
Walking closer, they saw a neatly folded pile of clothes, the bright red of a United shirt lying on top with its red devil badge standing out clearly.
A horsefly landed on the white stomach for a moment, scratched its feelers and took two steps forward. Turnbull leant closer to the body and the fly took off, buzzing around heavily before being joined by another, both attracted to the dead body by the prospect of a possible feast.
‘How long do you think he’s been dead?’ asked Harry Makepeace.
Turnbull was now standing over the body, staring down at its face with the carefully combed hair draped across the forehead.
Before he could answer, a high-pitched voice shouted, ‘I’ll thank you to move away.’
Chapter 3
A man dressed in a white Tyvek suit with green edging stepped into the glade followed by another person.
‘Please move away, you are contaminating the crime scene.’
Turnbull reached for his warrant card. ‘I am Detective Chief Inspector—’
‘I don’t care if you are Little Lord Fauntleroy, this is my crime scene until I have certified the victim is dead and the crime scene manager, Audrey,’ the woman in the white suit raised her hand, ‘has cleared it. You are improperly dressed and should know better.’
‘I… I…’
Dr Schofield moved out of the way to let the detectives leave using the path they had created through the trees.
‘Come on, Harry, we’ll have a chat with the witness.’
‘You can make yourself useful by making sure there is an inner cordon at least fifty yards away from here. I want to make sure we have no more contamination.’
Turnbull grunted and pushed his way back through the trees, finding the sergeant and ordering him to set up an inner cordon.
The discoverer of the body, Jon Morgan, had moved and was now standing back on the path with his dog. He was frantically smoking, his eyes flickering left and right.
‘Mr Morgan?’
The man looked up.
‘I’m DCI Turnbull, I believe you discovered the body?’
The man nodded once before saying, ‘Actually, the dog discovered it. I heard him scrambling through the trees and making a whining sound. He doesn’t normally do that so I left the path and saw the body lying there. At first, I thought he was asleep so I went to wake him but then I saw the rope around his neck…’ He stopped talking and took a rapid tug at his cigarette.
‘Let’s just step back a moment, please, Mr Morgan. What time did you arrive here?’
‘About 8.15. I always walk the dog at this time. Just a habit we’ve started since lockdown. Means we both get some exercise at the start of the day. Keeps me sane.’ He glanced in the direction of the clump of trees. ‘Or at least it did until today.’
‘You came alone?’
A slight hesitation. ‘Yes, I drove here alone. My wife prefers to sleep in, as do my kids. I take the same route every day, parking on the main road, walking down the lane and onto the path to the river.’
‘And you discovered the body immediately?’
‘Not immediately, I started walking about eight thirty.’
‘Why did it take so long?’ asked Harry Makepeace.
‘Take so long?’
‘Before you started walking. Usually my dog is so excited when he’s in the back of the car and we get to the beginning of our walk.’
Jon Morgan’s eyes darted left and right, before he finally held up his hand with the cigarettes clamped between the index and middle fingers. ‘I had one of these. My wife hates me smoking in the house so I have to do it outside.’
‘I know how you feel,’ sighed Turnbull. ‘So you started walking at about eight thirty and ten minutes later Major started snuffling and whining in the undergrowth over there. You couldn’t see the body?’
‘Not from here. But I wondered why he was making so much noise, it’s not like him. So I went through the trees and saw it lying there.’ Another frantic tug at the end of his cigarette, expelling the smoke almost immediately into the warm air.
‘Did you see anybody else?’
Jon Morgan looked at him quizzically.
‘When you were walking. Did you see any other people?’
The man shook his head.
‘So there were no other dog walkers this morning?’ asked Harry Makepeace.
‘I don’t remember any. Why?
