Beneath the Soil by Fay Sampson

all looking at her. She coloured.
    â€˜I don’t know why I let myself get dragged into this. I tried to tell Tom not to go. But then I thought, well, maybe there ought to be someone there with their head screwed on.’
    â€˜Thanks, Mum,’ Tom grinned, ‘for that ringing vote of confidence in your offspring.’
    â€˜It’s
because
you’re my offspring,’ she said darkly. ‘I know you too well. All right then. I suppose it’ll have to be me.’
    She picked up the telephone in the hall with reluctance. ‘Could I speak to someone about the Eileen Caseley case? The murder at Moortown? …’
    She came back to the kitchen to report.
    â€˜They’re still over at the incident room in Moortown. We must have passed it on the bus. But she’ll see us at the police headquarters here at nine tomorrow morning.’
    â€˜She?’ asked Millie.
    â€˜Detective Chief Inspector Brewer.’

SEVEN
    T om and Suzie marched up the steps of the police headquarters; Tom juggled the large survey nail in his hand. Halfway up he stopped. He looked back. Suzie turned as well.
    Dave stood at the foot of the steps. His face, below the ginger hair, was pale. Suzie saw the scared expression in his eyes as he looked up at the police station entrance.
    Tom was at his side in a few strides. ‘It’s OK, man. You’re on their side now. Queen’s evidence. No one’s going to hold the past against you. It never was your fault, anyway.’
    Dave gulped. Suzie’s heart ached with sudden realization. Two years ago, a teenage girl had died. Tom had fallen under suspicion of her murder, and Dave had concealed vital facts that could have cleared him. In the end, the verdict had been accidental death. Dave had received a suspended sentence for withholding evidence.
    Suzie could see him now reliving that nightmare as the police station loomed above him.
    Slowly, reluctantly, he let Tom lead him up the steps.
    â€˜Can’t you see, it will work in your favour?’ Tom was saying. ‘Another murder … Idiot! I mean another violent death, and you’re bang on the nail with evidence. They can’t criticize you this time, can they? Don’t worry. I’ll do the talking.’
    Tom has this sunny confidence, Suzie thought, that he has only to flash those bright blue eyes at anyone and throw them that engaging smile and they’ll fall at his feet. To be honest, people usually did.
    Chief Detective Inspector Alice Brewer was intimidatingly tall. The impression was heightened by her long, thin face and the even longer, fairish hair which fell straight to her collarbones. She was beanpole slim.
    She looked at the three of them, seated before her. Her eyes settled on Suzie. ‘I’m told you have information concerning the death of Eileen Caseley. Do you want to tell me about it?’
    Suzie had half expected this, whatever Tom’s assertion that he would speak for them. She had been the one who made the phone call to book this appointment. For all Tom’s ready confidence, she was his mother, a generation older.
    â€˜I suppose I ought to start with last Saturday. We … that is, my husband and I and my son and daughter, were out in Saddlers Wood …’
    â€˜Your husband has already signed a statement about that,’ DCI Brewer said crisply. ‘Shall we get to the point?’
    Suzie was beginning to feel not so much a mature adult as a chastened schoolgirl.
    â€˜Tom, my son, and Dave thought there might be more to the incident in the woods. They wanted to have another look. I tried to dissuade him at first, but when I saw he was set on going I decided it might be better if I went too.’
    â€˜So. You tried to dissuade him. You obviously thought it was a bad idea.’
    Suzie felt herself colouring. ‘Nobody seemed very interested in what we said about someone else being there in the woods, possibly hiding from us. But