Dark Ritual (7 page)

She shook her head. “Not Wicca or witchcraft but something very similar I think,” she said cautiously. “I looked up the old deaths. The victims were a young man and a young woman of a similar age. The girl was sixteen, the lad nineteen. And a knife was used as it was on Sandra. And the fire followed the ritual deaths to further cleanse the soil. But they died in different years. And they weren’t related.”

“And no one was punished for it?”

“If they were, no one ever spoke about it afterwards. And I doubt if you’d get much from their names even now from anyone. The present generation of their families would not wish to be involved.”

Fowler put down his empty mug carefully and groaned as he thought this over. It didn’t improve on hearing it again from Viviane. Then fixing his eyes on her said: “What are your own views on this?”

The cautious look in her eyes gave him her answer. She cupped her hands round her knees thought for a moment and said softly, “It disturbs me... But what can I say? Facing the facts that something similar happened here before. And — perhaps maybe long before that. These country places can keep their secrets well. So how did you find out about it?”

He cleared his throat. “An American tourist. I haven’t actually spoken to him yet. Apparently he’s interested in the crop circles. He has, I think, visited here before. He must have researched in depth about Lower Milton before coming here. The Americans generally know more about places than us natives, don’t they? We’ve got to be careful how we handle this. I wonder what Steve would have done faced with it. What do you think?”

She could read how he felt easy enough. This was going to be a homicide that had massive ramifications. It was impossible to visualize or predicate accurately for the moment. Especially if the media seized on this pagan ceremony feature.

She reached over to put the empty mugs on the tray and met his troubled eyes and chuckled. “He’d cope the same as you. You’ll give it the best you possibly can. It’s lucky you’ve been given this information now to deal with rather than later. Would you have arrested Jason Macey for instance on the evidence you were given about him and Sandra? Or waited a while till you found out more about this pagan ritual which can mean something or nothing.”

“They quarrelled in public and at the camp.”

“He at least admitted to it. She really got under his skin. He must be feeling rotten about it right now. And scared that he will be made the chief suspect too,” she said clasping her hands together.

“He had no choice. There’re too many witnesses.”

“That’s good. Although I expect you won’t let it stop at that. There could be more than that to their volatile relationship.”

His face lightened up visibly. “You’re right. We’re lucky I suppose. It could have taken us longer to sort out. And we’ve got to deal with this new avenue now. If there is any truth in it.” He clasped his hands together. “We could have a psycho here. Someone who will look for another sacrifice.”

“Jim Shipley, landlord of the Fox and Goose, you ought to talk to him. He doesn’t gossip out of turn but he knows what goes on and Sandra visited the pub quite a bit, as did most of the men did that she was seeing regularly.” She grinned at him. “Babs Shipley, his wife, Bob, she could tell you a thing or two — I expect.”

He stood up and frowned thoughtfully. “I’ll do that.”

“You haven’t found out anymore about what Sandra was working on yet, have you? What if one of those new age protesters up there on the hill knew about the ritual sacrifice, and wanted to try it out on Sandra? They must know something of the history and there might be someone amongst them who’s weird enough to do it. You’ll have to bring them in for questioning.”

His cell phone rang loudly in his jacket pocket.

“Peale here, Bob, Robbins has just told us that Jason Macey has a knife.”

Was this what they were hoping for, or another blind lane to travel down? Perhaps that this would simply knock the pagan thing into a cocked hat.

“Thanks, Peale.” He switched off the phone.

“Did you know that Jason Macey has a knife, Viv?”

“I think it’s a dirk, actually.”

“You saw it? Was he wearing it to look big?”

She put down the tray again on the table slowly. Her thoughts were whirling around. They focused on the previous day.

“Oh — God — yes! I saw Macey brandish it, Bob, when he was arguing with Gary Brown outside the Fox and Goose on Sunday.”

“And?”

“Brown warned Macey to clear off Kilernee Hill and out of Lower Milton with words like ‘take that bloody crowd of hippy protestors with you before they ruin the fucking place,’ and more.”

“And he had it then?”

She nodded. “Yes, Macey bent down, and came up brandishing something shiny in his hand. I could see it from where I stood near my car. It was a dirk or a small dagger, something of the sort.”

He chuckled. “Thanks. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Brown said plenty. He said everyone there had had enough of all the trouble Macey’s crowd were causing over Kilernee Hill. Said the people in Lower Milton would make their own protest over saving it and the Bronze burial site and lots more.” She laughed. “And — in other words ‘Macey should bugger off’ ... That’s when Macey produced the knife.” She bit her lip. “Sorry, I should have thought of it before.”

“The cunning blighter.”

She shrugged and made a wry face. “Brown was ready for him.” She chuckled. “Grabbed hold of his arm. Put it in a lock round his back and laughed as Macey dropped the weapon onto the pavement. Said, he’d break his bloody arm and put him in the cop shop in two seconds flat if he attempted to use it on him or anyone else.”

“He let him go...”

“Yes, Macey flattened, shrunk up like a crumpled balloon, picked up the knife and practically slunk away.”

Fowler laughed. “So Gary Brown had his measure. He could have reported him to our constable here. It’s not legal to carry a weapon like that. But Macey’s ready to break all the rules.”

“I’d say that he’s been spoilt rotten by his parents. I think he knows when he’s gone too far.”

He thought for a moment. “So could this be the weapon that was used? What do you think? Would he have been driven to use it on the girl? Could he get mad enough to do it?”

“Maybe. If he’s the killer he would have gotten rid of it somehow and pretty quick. May I ask if Sandra was actually killed in that field?”

He laughed. “It wouldn’t be kept secret if she was. Why do you ask? Do you know something, I don’t?”

She looked thoughtful, holding her hand up to her face. “Well, I was awakened near midnight I would say, by a car moving fast down the lane past this cottage, and about three quarters of an hour later, I heard it coming back again. I think it was just gone one a.m. when the storm woke me. The thunder and sheet lightning flash lighted up my room and my cat came up onto my bed when I heard the vehicle racing back again.

“And you think it was the same vehicle?”

“Pretty sure. I don’t think it was the doctor out on a late call. There are no babies due just now, not that I know of, or any desperately sick patients.”

“That’s interesting. Seems like a good few people were still out and about during the early hours. It’s not so quiet in the country, after all.”

She laughed. “I stayed up late to watch a film. It was a really spooky one and I’d just about got off to sleep when I was woken by that darn noisy car. Someone was in a hell of a hurry. While I think of it, Sandra was naked, so where were her clothes? Someone would have to have taken them away, wouldn’t they?”

He rubbed his hand over his face slowly and grinned ruefully. “Sure — we’ve yet to find them. And the bike she was supposed to be using that evening according to Macey.”

“Dumped somewhere. You’ll find it, I expect, soon.”

“You’ve been a great help. Exactly where this is taking us, I don’t know. Not yet.” He groaned. “Peale was prepared to arrest Martin Robbins earlier.”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe that. Not Martin surely. He simply hasn’t got it in him. Sandra went out of her way to help him always.”

“I left Peale to interview the boy with the help of his aunt. And he’s just given us the info about Macey’s knife.”

“That was useful then.”

Fowler shrugged. “Robbins obviously wants to make Macey appear to be the chief suspect. But we haven’t given up on him either. He was more than a mite jealous of Sandra and Macey getting it together.”

He glanced at his watch and used his mobile. “Peale... The Yanks are coming? Okay. I’ll be there in two secs. Keep them talking.” He rung off.

“Got to go. Thanks a bunch for your help. I miss Steve still like crazy at times,” he confessed and surprised her then bending over quickly and kissing her lightly on the cheek as she saw him out.

She smiled and laughed and pushed him out gently. “Good luck, Bob.”

“Felt like doing that all day,” he said smiling. “Hope these Americans can give us some other info more useful than delving into the pagan past.” He shook his head. “Although it beats me how we’ve had to get it from them. Why hasn’t our local soothsayer and gossip Mrs. Doughty spoken out about it before now?”

Eleven

The Americans looked around the incident room with great interest and beaming white, enamelled smiles. Peale, when he first spotted them in their navy Bermuda shorts and pale blue linen shirts, thought that they should have been given a loud fanfare of the Stars and Stripes to greet them.

Probably in his late thirties, the first face round the door was plump, tanned, with full pale blue eyes, dimpled and smiling with bleached blond hair. His friend was tall and skinny, with a sleek brown crop of hair, sharp bony features, a clipped narrow moustache, a small van dyke beard and busy, intelligent brown eyes.

Peale came forward quickly to greet them with a smile. “Sorry to ask you to come in so late in the day, sirs.”

The Americans smiled, pulled out two chairs and sat down. He glanced at his watch. The door opened again and Fowler came in as if on cue and joined them.

He welcomed the two Americans with a smile. “I’m Detective Chief Inspector Fowler. This is Detective Sergeant Peale. And you are?”

“Cole Hamilton, sir,” said the thin man leaning forward in the chair, “and this is Charlie Stein, my partner. We’re hair stylists from good old L.A.” He clapped Charlie on the shoulder.

“You are staying here, Mr. Hamilton at Maddocks’ Farm? I gather that you came over with Mr. Stein to see the crop circle.”

“That’s right. We did. We’re doing a tour of Gloucestershire.” The word was pronounced to accentuate the
shire
.

“I’m planning to write a book on the crop circles,” Cole Hamilton said disarmingly with twinkling brown eyes.

“Really, sir?”

“I’ve gotten some superb photos of that marvellous field. What an exciting discovery to wake up to on a fine summer morning. This has been a wonderful opportunity for us. And it’s been swell staying here. So how can we be of help to you, Chief Inspector?”

“You mentioned pagan sacrifice ceremonies when you spoke to my police constable, Mr. Hamilton. Can you enlighten us further?”

“I sure can. My pleasure, anything I can do to assist you with this heinous crime.”

“And you also mentioned the two similar deaths in the nineteenth century which happened in Lower Milton. You have read about it?”

“That is correct. Just in conversation, Chief Inspector. I thought that this would be known already to you and your officers.” His sharp eyes scanned over Peale and Fowler and the officers in the incident room. “As it’s part of this wonderful community’s ancient history. We always make the most of any information we can get before we go anywhere overseas.

“To start with I prepared myself well beforehand and wrote to the Central library here in Gloucester before we flew over.”

“And they most kindly photocopied details and sent them to us. Especially swell of them to go to so much trouble.” Charlie beamed back at Gerry Coombe who was smiling at them.

Fowler nodded.

“Lower Milton has a wonderful history here with the bronze age burial place on the top of Kilemee Hill. You knew about that of course, Chief Inspector?”

Fowler nodded.

“Man, they’re crazy those protesters,” Charlie intervened. “They’ll do more goddamn damage to the sacred place then good, shored up on there. You’ll have to get rid of them pronto.”

Fowler nodded in agreement. “So — how long have you been here, Mr. Hamilton? And how long would you be thinking of making your stay here with us?”

“Another week at least. We’ve been here one week already, and it’s been truly amazing. Charlie and I are determined to make the most of it. Aren’t we, Charlie?”

Charlie chimed in cheerfully, “We sure are. Cole wants to take more notes and snaps.All this has increased his initiative to write a book on these wonderful crop circles and the past history of these pagan ritual murders will be so worth while including in it.”

“It sounds like you think you will get plenty of interest if you publish this.”

They laughed in unison. “If the media doesn’t beat us to it. We’ve gotten quite a bit of information through talking to the old folks around here. But we wouldn’t like to think that we’re interfering in your investigation.”

“Real interesting conversations we have had with them,” Charlie intervened. “We have heard that the Fox and Goose was once called the Green Man. We have seen the old sign. It’s real awesome. Cole has offered to buy it from Mr. Shipley.”

“He’s thinking about it. And I’m hopeful.”

Fowler thought privately that the Fox and Goose was going to do well out of all their enthusiasm. And this also led him to think on about Gary Brown and the scene outside the pub. An Army man used to dealing with combat. Would he have handled a knife too? Sandra had flirted both with him and Bell. Was that sufficient motive for murder though?

The Americans had given up all they actually knew about the pagan festival ritual crime and those earlier deaths. What they had given the police was interesting enough. But now it looked as if it would sweep through the village as he had first feared like the plague. He wondered if they had given out hints to all and sundry that frequented the pub, with their enquiries about the local history.

“You have visited the Fox and Goose frequently, gentlemen?”

They looked at one another, beamed and nodded. “Naturally,” They chimed in together. “It has such a wonderful character. Like the old inn sign, it’s so old and full of the most charming folk.”

“And if you are asking if we saw the young woman Sandra Peterson in there?” Charlie said cheekily. “We most certainly did. You couldn’t miss her.”

“That’s right. She was such an attractive girl, that gorgeous hair, made us remember our own beautiful Marilyn Monroe, didn’t she, Charlie? Especially as she was on the local TV news twice, I think, wasn’t it, Charlie? She was a star.”

“That’s right. I wish we could have styled that glorious hair in our salon. It was for real not bleached. She would have been so good for business, wouldn’t she, Cole?” Charlie patted his fair frizz with his gold ringed hand. “So curvy too. An Aphrodite if ever I saw one.”

“Oh — but definitely, Charlie.”

“We could have used her as one of our models. She was the centre of attraction for the men if that’s what you want to know, Chief Inspector.”

“And yes, we did see her on Sunday evening, didn’t we, Cole? And heard her arguing with that overbearing young stud, who thought he had a right to her company for the night.” Charlie laughed.

“She soon put him straight, didn’t she, Charlie?”

“There was another young man in the background. A lovely boy.” Cole nodded. “Had some difficulty in speaking though.”

“We learnt later that he was deaf. The other man treated him like dirt on his shoes.”

“Not a nice young man.” Charlie shook his fluffy head, which Peale thought reminded him of a dandelion clock.

Cole nodded. “The boy was deaf. He tried to butt in to stop the argument. And then the chap that runs the post office separated them. He’s a real heavy weight. Ex-Army I believe.” He stopped suddenly with a frown. “Then we saw it, didn’t we, Charlie?”

“Yes we did, Cole. A knife, Chief Inspector. One of those men had a knife. And I think he could have used it but the other man wrestled him for it. Amazing!”

“That’s correct, Inspector, we saw the knife flash in the air. The bossy boyfriend held it. Looked like he kept it strapped to his ankle.”

Peale was quickly taking down notes. “Have we told you something important, officer? That’s good, isn’t it Charlie? Weapons like knives are banned here, aren’t they?” Cole looked for confirmation of this to Fowler.

“That’s correct, sir. Thank you, gentlemen. You have been most helpful. I hope you continue to enjoy your stay here.”

“Thank you, I’m sure we will.”

Peale said, “We may have to ask you to some more questions later.”

“Will you keep what we have discussed private for the moment, please, Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Stein? This is most important for our work on this case. You understand?”

“Of course. Any time, Chief Inspector.”

“Most pleased to help.”

The two men beamed gleefully at each other and stood up. “This has been really most interesting, hasn’t it, Cole?”

“Most interesting,” echoed Cole. “We’ll just have time to get a drink in the pub. We’ve been trying out your wonderful apple cider. It’s really the most refreshing drink in this warm weather.”

Now
try
to
follow
that
with
an
encore
. Fowler thought glumly, glancing at his watch.
Nine
thirty
-
five
, thought Fowler.
I
only
wish
I
could
join
you
,
gentlemen
, as the two men hurried out talking to one another like a pair of chattering magpies. He looked round at the rest of the officers manning the incident room.

“Okay. Time to call it a day, folks. Sorry it’s been such a long hard one. Let’s hope tomorrow is better. We’ve at least made some headway today.”

Groans of relief came from around the incident room as the PCs were closed down and chairs lifted and moved back.

“I don’t believe all this about pagan sacrifice, Bob. Do you honestly think it’s worth following up? Have we got a nutter here or what?”

Fowler sighed. “Can’t say, Peale. We’ll just have to see how far it takes us,” Fowler said as they walked out of the church hall to their vehicles. Across the road the lights were still on in the church.

Peale wasn’t about to let it go. “You don’t honestly think someone is crazy enough to make Sandra Peterson’s death into a harvest sacrifice, do you? If it has to be a virgin she’d hardly pass muster, Bob.” His attempt at banter was half hearted.

Fowler chuckled. “I don’t think it would be possible to find a suitable victim these days,” he said opening the car. “Can I give you a lift, Peale? You came in Welsh’s car, didn’t you?”

“Haven’t far to go. DC Coombe has offered me a ride, Bob.”

Fowler smothered a smile. “Okay. We’ve got an early start. In case you’re interested.”

“How could I forget?”

Fowler patted him on the shoulder. “All things considered we’ve done okay, so far. People are cooperating. Coming forward. We’ve got to discover why she was really here, Peale.”

“You reckon?”

“Martin, I think is the obvious link here to that. He knows more than he’s been saying. And we’ve got to find out what he’s covering up. And soon, in case someone else gets killed.”