Wildwood (YA Paranormal Mystery) (10 page)

Todd stood and stretched, nervous tension humming in his muscles. Finally, he was on to something. "I was going to ask if I could use your computer, but I'll come back later for that. Where exactly did you pick up the binoculars?"

Chapter Eight

While he walked up the coast path towards Lords Wood, Todd mulled over the clues he had and wondered if he should write them down so he didn't forget them. Usually, he thought better if he let stuff swim around in his head to make its own connections, rather than freeze it on paper.

He was so busy thinking, he only became aware of someone walking ahead of him when he was very close to them. Todd recognized Mrs. Bishop's curly blonde hair immediately.

Despite the fact he wanted to talk to her, instinct had him ducking out of sight into a hollow in the hedge. He crouched, heart racing, and watched through the brambles as she wandered up the path, swinging her arms and glancing out to sea.

Todd gave her time to put some distance between them, then crept along behind her, keeping out of sight. When she reached Lookout Cottage, she paused, resting her hand on the front gate as though thinking of going in. After a few seconds, she continued along the path. It was then Todd guessed where she must be heading. He hung back and hid behind a tree.

Mrs. Bishop stopped at the small grassy area where Andrew went over the cliff and faced the sea. She stared down at the deadly precipice twisting her fingers together. After a few minutes, she stepped forward, grasping the same hazel branch Todd had hung on to.

Turning away, Todd pressed his back against the tree trunk. He felt like a Peeping Tom and wished he hadn't followed.

Just as he decided to leave, the sound of voices reached him. He glanced around the trunk to see a tall thin man with a walking stick approaching Mrs. Bishop from the other direction. He was wearing an old-fashioned outfit, with a hat and a blue neck cloth instead of a tie. When he reached Mrs. Bishop, he put his arm around her shoulders as though he knew her well. He bent his head, speaking so softly that Todd couldn't hear. Mrs. Bishop stood silently for a moment, listening, then stepped away from him. "Leave me alone," she said in a strained voice. "There's nothing you can ever say that will make this better."

The man watched her, his expression giving no hint of his thoughts. Then his head snapped up and he stared at the tree where Todd was hiding. Todd ducked out of sight. This was a public right of way, but he really didn't want to be caught spying on Mrs. Bishop.

On silent feet, he slipped away, keeping close to the hedge until he rounded a corner. He released a breath and wiped sweat from his forehead.

Stay detached. Stay cool. This shouldn't spook him so much.

He took the turn onto the path that ran beside the woodland and entered the trees near the tangle of rusty wire Shaun had described. Surprisingly, he hadn't noticed the narrow entrance when he explored the woodland last time.

Birds warbled and chirruped. Beneath the shadows of the leafy canopy, the wind cooled him. He sensed the beating hearts of the woodland creatures like raindrops pattering softly inside his head. Following Shaun's directions, he walked twenty yards, then looked for a dead tree. He was lucky that because Shaun was an artist he observed details, otherwise he might not have remembered the place so well. A short way on, he found the trampled area of grass and bilberry bushes where Shaun told him he had found the binoculars.

He extended his senses and turned slowly, eyes combing the undergrowth for anything that didn't belong there. When he saw nothing, he crouched and rummaged through the dead leaf litter matted beneath this year's new growth.

It was only when his finger brushed a small gold ring, breaking his concentration, that he noticed how quiet the woodland had become. The sun gleamed down between the leaves, mottling the ground, but the wind had stilled. The familiar, comforting hum of nature surrounding him had disappeared from his radar, just as it had on the day he found the standing stones.

Leaves rustled in the distance; the unmistakable sound of a person pushing branches aside. Had someone followed him? With a quick glance at the small gold ring in his hand, he closed his fist around his find before stepping back beneath the cover of the undergrowth.

The person approaching might be a casual walker. But the path's entrance was difficult to find and unlikely to attract tourists. Even he'd missed it on his first visit.

If the television programs he watched were correct, murderers often returned to the scene of their crime. Assuming someone had attacked Andrew here, making him drop his binoculars in the woodland before pushing him over the cliff, that someone might come back to check nothing had been left behind to incriminate him…or her.

Todd glanced at the gold ring in his hand. At first sight, he'd thought it was a thin finger band, but it was an earring. Maybe that meant the murderer was female. Marigold? The thought tied his gut in knots. She had pierced ears. But so did many other women, including Mrs. Bishop. And how would a woman have carried Andrew from here to the cliff? Kelvin had been wearing an ear stud the day Todd saw him in the shop, and Shaun wore lots of earrings. Todd pushed the gold loop into the pocket of his jeans. It wouldn't help him at all unless he knew who'd lost it.

The footsteps grew closer. Todd breathed softly, leaned forward for a good view of the path, eager for his first sight of the person who could have murdered Andrew.

A rough hand closed over his mouth from behind. So fast Todd hardly had time to resist, his arms were pinned to his sides. He scrabbled his feet in the mud and leaf litter as his assailant dragged him backward. He tried to shout, choking on the bitter taste of dirty fingers pressed over his mouth. He sucked in air through his nose and struggled with all his might. The man's grip around him was unbreakable, the speed at which he moved unbelievable.

As suddenly as Todd had been caught, he was released to fall to his knees in the dirt.

Up like a spring, Todd pivoted to face his attacker, the lessons Dad had taught him so ingrained he reacted instinctively. The old vagrant standing in front of him sniffed and pulled the wooly hat further down over his matted gray hair.

Todd cursed, spat out the foul taste of the man's fingers, and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "What d'you think you're doing?" He spat again, not wanting to think where the man's hand had been.

"Lot of fuss over a little bit o' good clean dirt." The man chewed the inside of his cheek while he studied Todd, examining him from head to foot carefully as though he was thinking of buying him. "You're heavier than I expected. Must have rocks in your boots." He chuckled and turned away to tend a campfire.

Warily, Todd scanned the small clearing before glancing down at himself. Miraculously, the only damage was a lot of dirt on his clothes and shoes. And a massive dent in his pride. Normally he'd sense someone sneaking up behind him, but the strange stillness in the forest that blocked his senses had made him vulnerable. How could this scruffy old man be strong enough to grab him and drag him so fast? In the confusion of the moment, he must have imagined the man's strength and speed.

The silly old fool had ruined Todd's chance of identifying the murderer. "Why did you bring me here?" Todd took a step towards the old man who had crouched beside the fire and was stirring the contents of a blackened metal can hanging over the flames.

"A bad thing happened there, son. Not a good idea for you to be seen."

"I was hidden."

"Not well enough."

Todd's breath burst out in frustration. He'd been so close to a breakthrough. "I wanted to see who was coming."

The vagrant peered up through a ragged gray fringe and pursed his lips. "You were upwind, lad. A good hunter never gets upwind." He pointed at the branches swaying above their heads. "Wind's swung around since you entered the woods." The old man tapped his temple. "You're not paying attention."

Todd stared up incredulously. The vagrant was right. The wind direction had changed since he'd entered the woods. But what difference did it make when he was people watching?

"I know what's happening down there." The old man wagged a finger complete with blackened fingernail in the direction of Porthallow. "I watch 'em."

"What bad thing happened at the place where you found me?"

The man decanted a cupful of watery brown liquid into a tin cup and sniffed at the steam. "Ah, yes. I know everything." He looked up at Todd and for an instant, a sharp intelligence flashed in the dull brown eyes. "And everyone."

A glimmer of excitement flashed through Todd. "Were you camped behind the Turpins' cottage on the night of the murder?"

"You say murder, but I heard the cops are calling that boy's death an accident."

Todd drew on all his reserves of patience. Watching the man intently for his reaction he said, "I say it was murder."

The vagrant sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Now maybe it depends on how you define murder. There's some around here think that boy deserved his fate like the Cochran boys before him."

The Cochran boys? Who were they? Todd resisted the temptation to be distracted by a fresh scent and pursued his original quarry. "Did you see someone push Andrew Bishop over the cliff?"

After a sip from his cup, the vagrant wandered towards a heap of blankets at the base of an oak tree before making a performance of bending and arranging his bed. "These old bones aren't what they used to be. Can you help an old man down?"

Todd remained where he was, watching impassively. He might have been mistaken about the extent of the man's strength and agility, but he wasn't stupid enough to be taken in by this act. He guessed the vagrant wanted him to believe he was too weak and slow to have killed Andrew. Well, too late, mate. The old codger had already proved he was strong enough to manhandle Todd.

"Do you think Andrew deserved to die?" Todd asked, getting straight to the point.

"You're a dog with a bone, aren't you? Won't let go until it's cracked open. That girl Marigold has told you some of Andrew's sins. There are other things I could add to the list, but when you've dug a hole you can't climb out of, hardly matters if you dig some more now, does it?"

"You didn't like him?"

"I don't like anyone. Don't dislike anyone either. It's not in my nature."

Todd frowned, trying to make sense of the old man's words. But there was only one thing he wanted to know. He repeated his question. "Did you see who killed Andrew Bishop?"

The vagrant sipped his drink and sighed. "Yes."

Eagerly, Todd moved closer, crouched, forearms on his knees. "Who was it?"

"Sit down beside me." The vagrant patted the blanket at his side.

Todd winced as he imagined fleas and lice. Mind you, he was probably infested already since the man had touched him. Mum would go mental if he caught fleas. Grandpa wouldn't be too pleased either.

Easing back, Todd shook his head. "Please tell me. It's important someone informs the police. Otherwise the murderer will get away unpunished."

"You don't sit with me, you don't get an answer."

Todd huffed out a breath of reluctant acceptance, then dropped down and sat cross-legged on the blankets, keeping as far from the old man as he could.

"Now you can share my drink." The vagrant held out the tin cup. Steam floated up carrying the bitter, tangy fragrance Todd had smelled on the smoke the last time he was in the woods.

"What is it?"

"This an' that. Natural ingredients I collect from the forest. A lad like you who appreciates nature will know about the bounty of the forest."

The bounty of the forest
also included poisonous plants. This was crazy. No way should he drink the vagrant's brew. Yet the old man had drunk from the cup, so the concoction couldn't be poisonous. "If I take a drink, you promise you'll tell me who killed Andrew?"

The old man nodded. Todd grasped the cup and fought down the burn of bile in his throat at the thought he was sharing a drink with someone who probably didn't even own a toothbrush. He rubbed his sleeve around the rim before he took a sip. The liquid tasted like herbal tea, only half as vile as it smelled.