The room fell silent, Jenny conscious of all eyes upon her.
‘Where?’ said Walter and Karen and Cresta almost in unison.
‘Delamere Forest.’
‘Who?’
‘A woman, an elderly lady, a Chester woman by the name of Margaret O’Brien. Some retired solicitor found her. He’s still there now; the local police are on the scene.’
‘Tell them not to move a thing. Nothing! We are on our way. Come on, Karen.’
‘I’m coming too,’ announced Cresta, getting up in a hurry and dragging her purple coat from the back of her chair.
Walter and Karen shared a look. They weren’t used to having passengers riding when they were on a case, but what could they do?
Karen drove, Walter sat in the front with Cresta behind him. Karen had grabbed a marked car, a powerful BMW, one of her favourites. It didn’t take long to get there, not the way she drove. She adored seeing the traffic scuttling from their path like panicking beetles, and when they delayed her, she didn’t hesitate to use the blue lights and wailing siren to sweep them out of the way.
Cresta held on tight. Walter closed his eyes.
They found the place, radioed in by their man on the spot. It was a remote location, way off the main road, down a re-laid gravel track. Two local police officers were there, and a doctor, and the old solicitor, and Stevie, and they all glanced up as the shark-like car pulled into the small car park.
Walter stepped out to be confronted by the older man.
‘Are you in charge?’
‘I am.’
‘I’ve given your man a statement; I am getting very cold and not a little irritated, and I need to go home.’
‘I’m getting cold and not a little irritated too,’ said Walter, striding toward the bench.
The man huffed and puffed and followed.
‘Give me five minutes,’ Walter said, ‘after that we’ll have a quick chat and then you can go.’
Milkins pursed his lips and nodded his head and led the dog to the water for a drink.
‘Well?’ said Walter. ‘What’s the score?’
The doctor looked away from the dead woman and said, ‘Estimated time of death between half eight and half-past ten last night. There are no obvious injuries.’
‘Cause of death?’
‘Too early to say. You’ll have my full report before close of play today.’
‘And if you had to guess?’
‘I am not a guessing man.’
‘Try! Please.’
‘If I had to guess, I’d say carbon monoxide poisoning.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Colour. Look at the skin. Hypopigmentation, a common sign.’
‘Mmm,’ said Walter, peering at the corpse. ‘Not natural causes?’
‘Oh no, I’d be surprised at that.’
Walter nodded. ‘Ring me, will you, when you’re done?’
The doctor nodded, and they all turned and watched the ambulance bouncing down the track toward them.
‘Karen.’
‘Guv?’
‘Have a word with the solicitor guy. Ask him if he saw anyone else. Tell him we’ll need his fingerprints to eliminate him. Tell him to go with the local boys and get that done and then he can go home.’
‘Sure, Guv.’
Walter peered across the lake and pictured the scene when the killer was there. Was the murder carried out on site, or elsewhere, and the victim brought here? It was a quiet place. It could have been done on site, in which case what was the killer doing while it was going on? Standing by, watching? Maybe. A killer would not be squeamish. But if not, pound to a penny Walter would wager the killer would have wandered off, a quick stroll round the lake, perhaps. Maybe a good place to find footprints in the mud, especially if the path was rarely used.
He called the local officer over and instructed him to make certain that SOCO took casts and photographs of all footprints in the vicinity, and especially those on the far side of the lake.
‘Don’t let me down,’ said Walter, staring into the young kid’s eyes.
‘I won’t,’ he replied, and he wouldn’t because this was the most important thing he had ever done.
‘Cresta?’ called Walter.
‘That’s me.’
‘What do you make of it?’
‘Much as I would have expected. A remote place the killer has previously visited. That’s how the he-she thing knows it’s here. Probably been here before with a partner, maybe more than once, maybe with more than one partner, a scene of happy memories, I’d say.’
‘Memories?’
‘Yes, the partner’s gone now, departed, maybe voluntarily, maybe died...’
‘Maybe murdered,’ added Walter.
‘Could be.’
‘What sparked everything off?’
‘Loss of the partner, I would say.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. But how long ago?’
‘Within the last twelve months. Not recent, I suspect. It’s been festering in the back of the brain, gradually building. At first they imagined they could cope with it.’
‘When all the while they couldn’t?’
‘You’ve got it.’
‘How many people have been through a broken relationship in the last twelve months?’
Cresta pulled a face that said it all.
‘Another random killing?’ said Walter.
‘Looks that way.’
‘The he-she thing is either incredibly lucky or incredibly clever.’
‘Why lucky?’ asked Cresta.
‘The track has been freshly gravelled so no traceable tyre marks, and the heavy rain has washed away any footprints.’
‘That looks like luck.’
‘That’s what I think, and if the he-she’s had all the luck up to now, it’s about time their luck ran out.’
Cresta nodded.
‘Man or woman?’ asked Walter, as Karen came back.
‘I can’t tell,’ said Cresta.
‘Man for me,’ said Karen.
‘Me too,’ said Walter, ‘course it’s a man.’
‘Let’s wrap it up here and get back to Chester.’
Returning in the car Karen said, ‘Was the press conference such a success?’
‘I think so,’ said Cresta.
Walter said nothing.
‘We now have a dead old lady on our hands,’ said Karen.
‘That would have happened anyway,’ said Cresta.
‘You think? Is this not his response to our baiting?’
‘He or she, are in this for the long-term. It, for want of a better word, will keep on killing until you catch them.’
‘I think Maggie O’Brien would still be alive if we hadn’t done the broadcast,’ said Karen.
‘Rubbish!’ said Cresta.
‘We’ll never know,’ said Walter, ‘but we now have more to go on, more evidence, more leads, so from that point of view,
