‘Look at this, Lady. A wallet.’
He carefully opened it to find fifty pounds in ten-pound notes. There were a few coins in the zipper part, but more interesting were the credit cards and photo driving licence. An elderly man’s face stared back at him. The name Harold Edward Sissons sent grim shock waves through his body. Even though he had been convinced the body would turn out to be that of Sophie’s neighbour, he’d hoped not, for his sister’s sake. And for the sake of the frail-looking old lady whose image he couldn’t shake. Her staring out of the window of her picturesque country cottage haunted him.
Light broke through the trees and Carlos worried the police or forensics team might turn up any minute. After a quick shuffle around to see if anything else was hidden, he took a few photos and returned the wallet to where he’d found it, covering it again with the leaves. Any other time, he would have taken it to the lead investigating officer, but knowing Masters as he did, he knew the man would be furious. It was not an option.
‘Come on, Lady. Time to go. Any forensics team or detective worth their salt should find it.’ He hoped he was right. If not, he would have to accidentally stumble across the wallet at a later date and hand it in.
He and Lady finished running the circuit of the woods, something they hadn’t got to do the previous night.
Carlos passed the time of day with a couple of dog walkers on the green he crossed on the way out of the woods. A few people defrosting their cars waved as he passed through the village. Most of them called out, ‘Good morning.’ Gary’s car was no longer on the drive when he got back to their place.
He was still scrolling through the photos on his phone of the crime scene and the area where he’d found the wallet when he let himself in with the key Sophie had given him the night before. Lady ran in ahead. Sophie was up, buried in a long, fluffy purple dressing gown, and she greeted them both.
‘Nice run?’
‘Enlightening. We went back to your Shady Woods.’
‘I bet Gary told you the story behind the name. Some people round here won’t go in at all. They believe the name refers to odd goings-on. There’s always folklore in village life. You’d better tell me what you found over a strong coffee. Gary hardly slept; he still felt sick this morning, you know. You could have told him not to come near once you found that body, Carlos. You know how sensitive he is.’
Carlos rolled his eyes. ‘Seriously? He only got a brief glance before he ran off to throw up.’
Sophie laughed. ‘It’s not his thing. He’s a scientist. Good at putting parts together, but not good with bodies. Anyway, he said it was the smell that made him sick. Says he could still smell it this morning.’
‘It was rather rancid. But if it was the smell, what was I supposed to do? Ask the Good Lord to direct the wind in the opposite direction? He can only have got a whiff. Perhaps next time we go out, I’ll make sure he brings a mask and dark goggles.’ Carlos was more amused than irritated.
‘If you could arrange that, I might get some sleep. Sorry, I’m a bit crotchety this morning. You know what I’m like if I don’t get my eight hours.’
‘In that case, I’ll get the coffee. I need to give Lady breakfast anyway.’
He could already smell the percolated coffee coming from the kitchen. He poured two mugs, gave Lady some fresh water and food, and joined Sophie on a seat at the breakfast bar.
‘So, tell me, why did you go back to the woods? Presumably to take another look at the scene.’
‘I wouldn’t have felt the need if I hadn’t met the man in charge of the investigation last night. He’s bad news, Sophie.’
‘I thought I heard an edge to your voice when you answered the door. I was trying to listen, but Gary was telling me how ill he felt so we ended up watching an episode of Gilmore Girls to get him calm enough to sleep.’
Carlos’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You’re kidding?’
Sophie gave him a mock glare, daring him to continue, so he elected to say no more.
‘So why is the detective bad news and what did you find at the crime scene?’
‘How do you know I found anything?’ he teased.
‘The smug look on your face. You used to do that as a boy when you uncovered some secret.’
Carlos laughed. ‘You obviously know me too well. To start with, I’ll tell you about Terry Masters – he’s the DCI leading this investigation. We were on the same team in Afghanistan.’ Carlos sighed heavily, knowing it was going to hurt to recount events from that time. These were things that most ex-servicemen tucked away in the recesses of their brain like a Pandora’s box, never to be opened.
‘Go on,’ Sophie encouraged, pouring them both more coffee.
Sophie’s doorbell prevented him saying anything else.
‘Who the heck’s that? Can you get it? I’m not yet the housewife that answers the door in her dressing gown.’
‘Working on it, though,’ Carlos teased. He obediently went to the front door, hoping it wasn’t Masters carrying out the threat to interview his sister. Lady accompanied him and he could see from the shadow through the frosted glass that it was not the burly DCI.
He opened the door and immediately recognised the frail, thin face looking up at him. Meg Sissons was enveloped in a large brown coat and he noticed she was trembling.
Carlos smiled down at her. ‘Good morning. I’m Carlos, Sophie’s brother, she’s in the kitchen. Would you like to come in?’
‘No, thank you. Please could you tell her the police found my Harold.’ Her bottom lip trembled as she stoically tried to hold herself together. ‘He’s dead. I’m expecting a chief inspector at ten. I was wondering if you and your sister could be with me. I get a little forgetful these days and…’
‘I understand. I’m sure Sophie will be there. I, erm… need to work this morning, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh? I thought you were coming up for the holidays.’ She stopped herself. ‘Sorry, that’s none of my business. I’ll see Sophie at ten. Tell her thank you.’ Mrs Sissons turned abruptly and marched with surprising vigour for one so small back down the drive and right towards her house.
Lady whined.
‘I know, girl. She didn’t notice you, but she has a lot on her mind. Come on.’
Carlos was gutted he couldn’t agree to the neighbour’s request. He told Sophie who the caller was and what she wanted, which sent his sister into frenzied activity.
‘I can’t go like this!’ She raced upstairs to get ready, much to Carlos’s amusement. Sophie might be dumpy, but she was always immaculately turned out and had exquisite dress sense. Plus, layers of makeup would need to be applied and the wavy dark hair combed into submission before she would consider leaving the house.
He sighed heavily, wishing he could go next door, but he knew how much that would rile Masters. He’d be bad enough with Sophie present, but that he might understand. Carlos’s presence would be regarded as interference.
He felt disappointment and relief in the same measure at not finishing the conversation with Sophie. He realised it was time to open up. His sister had long suspected he had suffered severe trauma during his last tour – he could tell that from the sympathetic looks whenever anyone mentioned Afghanistan, but she knew him better than to press, knowing he would tell her when he was ready, and he loved her for it.