security duty,” Enderby added.
“And?”
“Nothing, I’m afraid, sir. They all agree there was so much coming and going, so much pandemonium, that nobody knows who was where when. I’ve a good suspicion most of them were partaking of the same substances as the musicians and guests, too, which doesn’t help their memories much. Lots of people were wandering around in a daze.”
“Hmm,” said Chadwick. “I didn’t think we could expect too much from them. What about the girl?”
“No one admits definitely to seeing her, but we’ve got a couple of cautious maybes.”
“Push a bit harder.”
“Will do, sir.”
Chadwick sighed. “I suppose we’d better arrange to talk to the groups who were backstage at the time, get statements, for what they’re worth.”
“Sir?” said Enderby.
“What?”
“You might find that a bit difficult, sir. I mean…they’ll have all gone home now, and these people…well, they’re not readily accessible.”
“They’re no different from you and me, are they, Enderby? Not royalty or anything?”
“No, sir, more like film stars. But–”
“Well, then? I’ll deal with the two local groups, but as far as the rest are concerned, arrange to have them interviewed. Get someone to help you.”
“Yes, sir,” Enderby replied tightly, and turned away.
“And Enderby.”
“Sir?”
“I don’t know what the standards are in North Yorkshire, but while you’re working for me I’d prefer it if you got your hair cut.”
Enderby reddened. “Yes, sir.”
“Bit hard on him, weren’t you, sir?” said Bradley, when Enderby had gone.
“He’s a scruff.”
“No, sir. I mean about questioning the groups. He’s right, you know. Some of these pop stars are a bit high and mighty.”
“What would you have me do, Simon? Ignore the fifty or so people who might have seen the victim with her killer because they’re some sort of gods?”
“No, sir.”
“Come on. Let’s head back home. I should be in time for Dr. O’Neill’s post-mortem if I’m lucky, and I want you to go to Yorkshire Television and the BBC and have a look at the footage they shot of the festival.”
“What am I looking for, sir?”
“Right now, anything. The girl, anyone she might have been with. Any odd or unusual behaviour.” Chadwick paused. “On second thought, don’t worry about that last bit. It’s all bound to be odd and unusual, given the people we’re dealing with.”
Bradley laughed. “Yes, sir.”
“Just use your initiative, laddie. At least you won’t have to watch the doctor open the poor girl up.”
Before they walked away, Chadwick turned back to the bloodstained ground.
“What is it, sir?” Bradley asked.
“Something that’s been bothering me all morning. The sleeping bag.”
“Sleeping bag?”
“Aye. Who did it belong to?”
“Her, I suppose,” said Bradley.
“Perhaps,” Chadwick said. “But why would she carry it into the woods with her? It just seems odd, that’s all.”
3
I t was after midnight when the lights came back on, and the wind was still raging, now lashing torrents of rain against the windows and lichen-stained roofs of Fordham. The coroner’s van had taken the body away, and Dr. Glendenning had said he would try to get the post-mortem done the following day, even though it was a Saturday. The SOCOs worked on in the new light just as they had done before, collecting samples, labelling and storing everything carefully. So far, they had discovered nothing of immediate importance. One or two members of the local media had arrived, and the police press officer, David Whitney, was on the scene keeping them back and feeding them titbits of information.
Banks used the newly restored electric light to have a good look around the rest of the cottage, and it didn’t take him very long to realize that any personal items Nick might have had with him were gone except for his clothes, toiletries and a few books. There was no wallet, for
“And?”
“Nothing, I’m afraid, sir. They all agree there was so much coming and going, so much pandemonium, that nobody knows who was where when. I’ve a good suspicion most of them were partaking of the same substances as the musicians and guests, too, which doesn’t help their memories much. Lots of people were wandering around in a daze.”
“Hmm,” said Chadwick. “I didn’t think we could expect too much from them. What about the girl?”
“No one admits definitely to seeing her, but we’ve got a couple of cautious maybes.”
“Push a bit harder.”
“Will do, sir.”
Chadwick sighed. “I suppose we’d better arrange to talk to the groups who were backstage at the time, get statements, for what they’re worth.”
“Sir?” said Enderby.
“What?”
“You might find that a bit difficult, sir. I mean…they’ll have all gone home now, and these people…well, they’re not readily accessible.”
“They’re no different from you and me, are they, Enderby? Not royalty or anything?”
“No, sir, more like film stars. But–”
“Well, then? I’ll deal with the two local groups, but as far as the rest are concerned, arrange to have them interviewed. Get someone to help you.”
“Yes, sir,” Enderby replied tightly, and turned away.
“And Enderby.”
“Sir?”
“I don’t know what the standards are in North Yorkshire, but while you’re working for me I’d prefer it if you got your hair cut.”
Enderby reddened. “Yes, sir.”
“Bit hard on him, weren’t you, sir?” said Bradley, when Enderby had gone.
“He’s a scruff.”
“No, sir. I mean about questioning the groups. He’s right, you know. Some of these pop stars are a bit high and mighty.”
“What would you have me do, Simon? Ignore the fifty or so people who might have seen the victim with her killer because they’re some sort of gods?”
“No, sir.”
“Come on. Let’s head back home. I should be in time for Dr. O’Neill’s post-mortem if I’m lucky, and I want you to go to Yorkshire Television and the BBC and have a look at the footage they shot of the festival.”
“What am I looking for, sir?”
“Right now, anything. The girl, anyone she might have been with. Any odd or unusual behaviour.” Chadwick paused. “On second thought, don’t worry about that last bit. It’s all bound to be odd and unusual, given the people we’re dealing with.”
Bradley laughed. “Yes, sir.”
“Just use your initiative, laddie. At least you won’t have to watch the doctor open the poor girl up.”
Before they walked away, Chadwick turned back to the bloodstained ground.
“What is it, sir?” Bradley asked.
“Something that’s been bothering me all morning. The sleeping bag.”
“Sleeping bag?”
“Aye. Who did it belong to?”
“Her, I suppose,” said Bradley.
“Perhaps,” Chadwick said. “But why would she carry it into the woods with her? It just seems odd, that’s all.”
3
I t was after midnight when the lights came back on, and the wind was still raging, now lashing torrents of rain against the windows and lichen-stained roofs of Fordham. The coroner’s van had taken the body away, and Dr. Glendenning had said he would try to get the post-mortem done the following day, even though it was a Saturday. The SOCOs worked on in the new light just as they had done before, collecting samples, labelling and storing everything carefully. So far, they had discovered nothing of immediate importance. One or two members of the local media had arrived, and the police press officer, David Whitney, was on the scene keeping them back and feeding them titbits of information.
Banks used the newly restored electric light to have a good look around the rest of the cottage, and it didn’t take him very long to realize that any personal items Nick might have had with him were gone except for his clothes, toiletries and a few books. There was no wallet, for
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