Fethering 02 (2001) - Death on the Downs Read Online Free PDF

have to do all their forensic stuff, off to the labs, what have you. But since you’ve mentioned Tamsin, I wonder…Could be right. She’s the only person in the village who’s gone missing recently.”
    “How long’s she been missing?” asked Freddie, eager to make up lost ground on village gossip.
    “She disappeared round the end of October. The parents haven’t a clue where she went. But she’d been funny for a while. Gave up a perfectly good job in publishing…Couldn’t cope, like I said.
    “No, I think this discovery’s pretty ominous. lamsin was always a bit loopy, wasn’t she? Quite capable of wandering off, high on drugs, falling asleep in the barn and dying of hypothermia. That’s what I reckon happened.” Graham Forbes spoke with the manner of someone whose opinions were rarely contradicted.
    “Do you actually know she was into drugs?” the landlord asked cautiously. “Hasn’t been any mention of it from the police, has there?”
    “Hasn’t been time for that. But I’m sure Tamsin was. Dressed like a hippie, didn’t she? And she was certainly into all kinds of alternative therapies and what have you. Only one step from herbal remedies to herbal cigarettes. And only one step from them to the hard stuff, in my view.” Again, his view was presented as incontestable.
    Carole was having difficulty keeping her mouth shut.
    She knew more about the subject under discussion than anyone else present. She knew Graham Forbes was wrong. Whether or not the remains belonged to Tamsin Lutteridge, his theory of how she’d died was way off beam. The girl hadn’t just curled up in the corner of South Welling Barn. Somebody had left her bones there in two fertilizer bags.
    For a moment Carole was tempted to speak, to share her knowledge. But she stopped herself, surprised that she’d even contemplated the idea. It would have been out of character for her to have put her oar in. And she realized the reason why her inhibitions had been relaxed. She was drunk. The two large brandies, reacting with her state of shock, had gone straight to her head. She felt distinctly woozy. There was no way she could drive back to Fethering, particularly given the heavy police presence along the Weldisham Lane.
    She had a sudden mental image of Gulliver by the Aga, feeling sorry for himself and his wounded paw. She looked at her watch. After six-thirty. She must get back.
    Catching Will’s eyes in a conversational lull at the bar, she asked, “Is there a phone I could use?”
    He pointed to a payphone by the entrance to the toilets. On a board above it were pinned cards from three local taxi firms. Carole tried them all. None could do anything for an hour. Friday evening was a busy time. The trains at Barnham were full not only of the usual daily commuters but also of second-home owners making the weekly journey to their country retreats.
    Carole stood by the phone, undecided. She had a thought that wouldn’t have come into her mind without the brandy. Making a quick decision, she dialled the number of the Crown and Anchor.
    Ted Crisp answered. He seemed unsurprised by her request. Yes, he’d pick her up. He’d got two bar staff in. They could manage for half an hour. Friday nights didn’t get busy in Fethering until after seven-thirty.
    Carole put the phone down, slightly stunned by her audacity, but also pleased at what she’d done. Throughout her life she’d hated being dependent on other people, hated asking for favours. The fact that she’d asked Ted Crisp to help gave her a feeling of a slight mellowing in her character.
    And, since the driving was sorted out, she felt like another drink. On her way back past the bar, she asked Will Maples for a large brandy. As she reached for her handbag, he said, “No. It’s on Lennie’s tab.”
    “Are you sure?” But then why not? If it was ever charged, it’d be on police expenses. Carole accepted graciously.
    Her movement across the pub had made her aware again of how