White Crocodile Read Online Free PDF Page A

finally cave in and get yourself some live-in company for those lonely weekends.’
    He clapped a hand on her shoulder. ‘I crave lonely weekends. Come on. Let’s take a look at the crime scene, and then I’d like you to drive the dog walker back to the station and get a proper statement from him.’ Wessex inclined his head towards the command vehicle, where an elderly man in a tweed coat and hat stood holding the lead of an overweight brindle Staffordshire bull terrier.
    ‘Fine. Who is he?’
    ‘Name’s Derek Taylor. He runs a printing company out of a unit in Sharston industrial estate. He said he comes here every morning to walk the dog before work.’
    They moved slowly through the slippery, rotting leaf mulch, towards the forensic team who looked like forest ghouls gliding through the trees in their white plastic overalls. As they went deeper into the trees the hum of cars on the M60 faded. A roar and another aeroplane flew overhead, landing lights washing them white as it passed.
    ‘How did he find her?’
    ‘The dog ran off, wouldn’t come back when he called. She’s quite old, the man said, and pretty obedient.’ Andy stretched and rubbed a hand across his stubble. ‘But greedy. When she wouldn’t come back, he followed the dog’s tracks and found her pulling at something. The body was partially covered in fallen leaves, so he took a moment to realise what it was. I don’t think the image will be leaving him for a while.’
    They moved over to the edge of the police tape that a couple of uniforms were stringing between the trees to fence off the crime scene, and Wessex pointed.
    ‘There. See her? Lying on her back.’
    ‘No, I can’t see her.’
    ‘Just the torso is visible. Her bottom half is covered in leaves, that orangey-brown mound.’
    He shifted closer, so that she could peer down the length of his arm.
    ‘The oak. See the oak. Follow the trunk down, and she’s a couple of yards to the right of that.’
    ‘OK, I . . .’ She put a hand over her mouth. ‘Fuck.’
    ‘Yes. Not the most pleasant.’ He laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘And just for the record, the puke’s the dog walker’s, not mine.’

Day 3
     
     

7
    Hammering. It took Tess a moment, fighting the mugginess of sleep, to recognise the noise as knuckles on wood. Turning her head, she glanced out of the window. The sun had risen, but the air in the room was still relatively cool. Throwing back the sheet, she climbed out of bed, extracted a T-shirt and shorts from her suitcase and pulled them on. By the time she reached the door, her landlady was halfway back down the stairs.
    Madam Chou turned: ‘Ah. Miss Tess. I thought you out, gone .’ She waved a skinny arm in the direction of the gate. Hitching up her lemon-yellow sarong, plastic flip-flops slapping against her soles, she retraced her steps. ‘I got mes’age from mines work. Man say got be there for seven. Mee’ing, seven.’
    Tess glanced at her watch. It was just past six, so she had an hour. An hour to mainline coffee and get her head straight. The meeting would be about Johnny. Raking, in painstaking detail, over yesterday’s explosion. Trying to work out what had gone wrong in a lane that was meant to be clear. It would be vital to her too – it might give her a pretext to ask more about Luke.
    She felt Madam Chou pat her arm. ‘Worry mee’ing later. I make breakfast.’
    ‘Thank you, but a coffee’s fine.’
    ‘Coffee no breakfast. You must eat.’ She reached out and plucked at Tess’s arm with two bony fingers. ‘You skinny enough already.’
    Tess smiled, despite herself. ‘It’s expensive to be this skinny where I come from.’
    ‘In Cambodia, you skinny you poor.’ Madam Chou’s wrinkled brown face split into a grin. ‘Or old, like me. See you breakfast.’
    Turning, she slap-slapped her way back down the stairs to the kitchen.
     
    *
     
    The headquarters of Mine Clearance Trust was in a crumbling French colonial mansion overlooking the