A Fatal Secret. Faith Martin

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СКАЧАТЬ letter that Trudy had been the first to read, and – given no chance or time to consider what to do about it – she had then been forced to make a split-second decision on what to do about her unwanted knowledge. And giving in to her instinctive impulse to conceal it from her superior officers had left her feeling in something of a quandary ever since.

      Withholding evidence was such a taboo that she still couldn’t quite believe she’d actually done it. But what other choice, really, had she had?

      As she sat in the car, vaguely watching the scenery go by, Trudy still wondered if she could have – should have – done things differently.

      Although, after much soul-searching, she had burned the letter, all she had to do was close her eyes and she could read it as if it still existed on actual paper.

       To whom it may concern

       I feel it my duty to inform the Oxford City Police that I have, on a number of occasions, observed Dr Clement Ryder, a coroner of the city, to show symptoms of what I firmly believe to be some kind of morbid disease.

       I have noticed him to suffer from hand tremors on several occasions, and also a dragging of his feet, leading him to almost stumble.

       Since a coroner is an officer of the law and holds a position of great responsibility, I feel it incumbent on me to point out that, very unfortunately, it may be possible that he is unfit to continue to serve in his present position.

       I therefore advise, very strongly, that he be assessed by one of his fellow medical practitioners as soon as possible.

       Faithfully—

      Of course, she knew that the killer had written the letter out of sheer spite, intending to make as much trouble and inconvenience for the coroner as possible. But it had been a very clever letter, making no outright or unbelievable accusations, merely stating that Dr Clement Ryder was ill, and should thus be removed from his office as medically unfit.

      On the face of it, it was a ludicrous claim. And now that she’d had ample time and space to think about it, she wondered if she shouldn’t have just left the letter where she’d found it, for wouldn’t her superiors have simply scoffed at it? Surely they would have regarded it as sour grapes on the part of a double killer, filed it away and forgotten about it.

      Or would they?

      Her immediate superior, DI Harry Jennings for one, was no fan of the coroner, since Dr Ryder would insist on sticking his nose into what the DI considered to be strictly police business. So he would have been very interested in pursuing anything that might help rid him of his troublesome nemesis.

      And what if it turned out that there was some basis to the accusations? Trudy shifted uncomfortably on the back seat and suppressed a small sigh.

      Yes, if she was going to be truly honest with herself, that was what really worried her. It wasn’t so much whether or not her chickens might come home to roost and one day blight her career. After all, nobody had seen her take the letter or even suspected its existence. No, she felt safe enough from the prospect of having to face any disciplinary proceedings.

      But her suspicion that what the letter had alleged might just be true wouldn’t go away.

      Because, for as long as she’d known him, she’d noticed a few odd things about her friend. The way Dr Ryder’s hands would tremble every now and then. She’d tried to put that down to age – after all, old men sometimes did have the shakes, right?

      Then there was the way he would sometimes stumble slightly, as though he’d tripped over an obstacle that wasn’t there. Again, she’d put that down to him shuffling his feet. She’d noticed that sometimes he didn’t pick his feet up properly – ironically a failing that her father had often scolded her for as a child!

      Of course, she’d half-suspected that he might drink a little more than he probably should, which would account for most of the things she’d noticed. A colleague had once told her that secret tipplers often kept popping breath mints to disguise the smell of booze on their breath, and it was true that, just lately, the coroner had started chewing on strong mints.

      But what if he didn’t have a fondness for too much drink after all? What if the trembling hands and unsteady gait meant something else? Because if he really was ill…

      Yet the only way she could know that for sure would be to ask him about it. It sounded simple enough, but Trudy had a feeling that it was going to be nothing of the kind. The coroner was a private and sometimes intimidating man, and she doubted he would take kindly to her dabbling in what he was certain to feel was none of her business.

      But that was a problem for another day. Right now, Trudy thought anxiously, they had a missing child to find.

       Chapter 2

      It was apparent from the moment they arrived at Briar’s Hall, and reported to the officer in charge, that the boy had not yet been found.

      The village Bobby wasn’t quite as old as Walter, and introduced himself as Constable Watkins.

      ‘Right. At the moment, we’re concentrating on the area around the lake, for obvious reasons,’ Watkins began grimly. ‘You two men make your way to the south side.’ He pointed across a small paddock. ‘You’ll see where the others are. Follow the path, but don’t bother searching the reeds where someone’s already left markers. Here…’ He handed Rodney and Walter a bunch of small wooden sticks, with red and white tapes dangling loosely from their ends. ‘Stick them in the ground at more or less twenty-yard intervals.’

      Trudy glanced around, trying to get the lie of the land. They’d travelled through the length of the small village, which now sat in a shallow valley to the east of her. They were at the bottom of a slight rise, and surrounded on three sides by woodland. Presumably, the rise and the trees were keeping Briar’s Hall itself from view.

      ‘You, WPC…?’

      ‘Probationary WPC Loveday, sir,’ Trudy said smartly, earning her a sharp, beady-eyed look.

      ‘Oh yes? You’re the one who’s got herself in some bigwig’s good books eh?’

      Trudy flushed painfully. ‘I didn’t do anything that anyone else wouldn’t do, sir,’ she began defensively, wondering how long she’d be forced to eat humble pie with her fellow officers. ‘It was the Earl who insisted on all this fuss.’

      The now infamous letter of thanks, due to be doled out to her by the Earl’s secretary during the upcoming bash, would no doubt be instantly snaffled by her mother. Much to her daughter’s horror, Barbara Loveday had insisted that she was going to get it framed so that it could hang in pride of place over the front-room mantelpiece. Next thing she knew, her father would be charging the neighbours sixpence to come and admire it!

      ‘Huh. Well, I suppose he would, considering it was his son’s neck you saved,’ Watkins conceded, obviously willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. ‘All right, you can take the far edge of those woods.’ He pointed directly north and behind him. ‘I haven’t allocated anyone there yet. You’ll see the woods there come almost right up to the outer walls of the gardens СКАЧАТЬ