Beneath the Soil by Fay Sampson Page A

I couldn’t be sure that you weren’t taking it more seriously than you let us know.’
    The chief inspector’s fingertips drummed on the table.
    â€˜But then,’ Suzie went on, ‘when we got near the farm, we could see that there was no police tape across the footpath that led to that clearing. And there was none when we got to the ruined cottage. It didn’t look as though you were treating it as part of the crime scene. But Tom and Dave went on further than we did on Saturday. They found this area outside the wood, like a small piece of moorland. And somebody, probably more than one person, had certainly been there, trampling all over the place.’
    â€˜So you thought you would trample all over it too? How did you know it wasn’t the police who had been there?’
    â€˜I found this!’ Tom exclaimed, lifting up the long, broad nail he had been holding under the table. ‘Doesn’t look as though there’d been a police search, does it? You could hardly have missed this.’
    DCI Brewer took a tissue from a box on the table. She reached across and took the nail from Tom, holding it carefully in the paper. She examined the raised lettering on the head, then laid it on the table in front of her. When she leaned her long thin neck towards Tom her eyes were steely.
    â€˜I
see
. You thought you’d play detective in a murder case. You decided the police weren’t up to the job. So all three of you trample in with your footprints all over the scene. You pick up what, by your own admission, you believed to be vital evidence. With your grubby hands. You make no attempt to preserve any fingerprints that might be on it. A single phone call was all it needed. I was only two miles away in Moortown. I could have had a squad of officers over there in minutes. We could have done a
professional
search.’ The adjective was loaded with scorn. ‘But no, you knew better.’
    Suzie saw Tom blush fiercely as her words hit home.
    â€˜It was my fault,’ she protested. ‘I found it first.’
    Tom ignored her. ‘You didn’t seem to be taking our first report seriously,’ he countered.
    â€˜How did you know what we might or might not have done yesterday morning? The police are not obliged to report to the Fewings family on how they are handling this case.’
    Suzie felt herself growing smaller in her chair.
    She tried to defend Tom – all of them. ‘It could be significant, couldn’t it? You’ve arrested Philip Caseley. I’ve no idea what went on between him and Eileen. But I talked to a woman on the bus back to Moortown. There
is
someone interested in opening up mining in this area, and the local people are dead against it, including Philip. It may have nothing to do with his wife’s death, but it suggests evidence that there was some hostility, doesn’t it? We saw Philip going down that path on Saturday. And we’re pretty sure there was someone else in the woods.’
    â€˜Yes. I have your report in front of me. And why, precisely, would that be a motive for that person to kill Eileen Caseley?’
    Her voice was icy. She went on relentlessly.
    â€˜And if there
was
any evidence of value in this area you’re talking about, you seem to have done your best to ensure that there will be nothing left for the police to find. One phone call. That was all it needed. You didn’t even have to
touch
this nail. I’ll get an officer to take your statements.’
    They were dismissed like naughty children.
    â€˜I told you I didn’t want to come!’ Dave burst out at the foot of the steps.
    â€˜Stay cool, man. She hardly spoke to you. It was me she was gunning for. Well, and Mum. Sorry.’ Tom turned to Suzie. ‘I got you into this.’
    â€˜Not entirely. I walked into it with my eyes open. I could have let you go back to Saddlers Wood on your own.’
    â€˜But you guessed we were heading