Cold Justice (Willis/Carter #4)(40)

‘Can you get access to the mine?’

‘We searched it already. All we found was a dead sheep.’

‘Can you search it again?’ asked Carter.

‘No problem. Tomorrow, we won’t be able to see now.’

They walked back to their car and Pascoe accompanied them.

‘We’re expecting Lauren Forbes-Wright down this evening,’ said Carter. ‘Have you got a Family Liaison Officer we could use?’

‘I’ll ask for one to come across from Truro. Might take me a day to organize. Is she going to stay at the house?’

‘Yes, Detective Willis will stay with her. I’m going to keep to the plan and book into the hotel. If you’re around later come and find me.’

‘I don’t drink – I try and avoid bars. But I’ll be up in the helicopter first thing and I’ll be in touch then unless you need me before.’

‘We’re going to see Martin Stokes now, if you want to come?’

‘I need to get the helicopter back and examine the footage tonight, so I’ll say no for now. Ask him about the barn.’

‘Will do.’

Jeanie phoned. Her voice came over the car radio.

‘I had a breakthrough with Toby. Seems he left Samuel unattended for plenty long enough for someone to snatch him. I’m convinced he didn’t intend for it to happen. He was just too scared to admit he’d messed up – their marriage is definitely shaky. Anyway, Lauren should be pretty near you now. She left at just after one.’

‘Is there any subject I should stay away from?’ asked Willis.

‘No, just be yourself. Lauren likes you. I’d give her plenty to do. I’ve written up my report about my time with Toby today. Robbo’s working on confirming his story. You can read the rest of it when you log in. Good luck down there, Eb. Dan, is there anything I can do to help Cabrina here?’

‘Thanks, Jeanie. I’ll give her a ring and see if she’s okay. I’ll get back to you.’

Jeanie rang off and Carter handed Willis his phone.

‘Text Cabrina for me, Eb, and tell her I’ll phone her as soon as I can. And tell her she can ring Robbo for anything she needs.’





Chapter 18


Carter and Willis headed back down the road and down the next turning left, signposted for Stokes’ farm. After half a mile, past cottages on the left, fields to their right, there was a tin-clad roof over a barn straight ahead as they came to the end of the lane and pulled up onto a concrete standing. Behind that to the right was a farmhouse, Cornish stone, simple and with two storeys. There were outbuildings scattered to the left. Security lights came on. A collie dog came out barking as they got out of the car.

A man appeared, wiping his hands of oil on a cloth that didn’t look clean. The smell of manure hit them. The ground was swimming in murky puddles of cows’ urine and fresh cowpats. They were difficult to avoid in the semi-dark.

‘What can I do you for?’

‘Mr Stokes? Martin?’

‘Yes.’

They showed their badges.

‘Can we have a word? I believe you look after things at Kellis House, Jeremy Forbes-Wright’s place?’

‘I look after things when he’s not there. Or I did – not sure what’s happening now he’s passed away. Bloody shame.’

‘How did you come to be doing that for him?’

‘Ah . . . I don’t know, really – he asked us to, I suppose.’

‘Have you got many houses on your books that you look after for the owners?’ Carter asked, looking around. ‘It’s just that you seem to have a lot to do here, plenty, I would have thought?’

‘You’re right there. I don’t have any other houses. It was a favour, really. As you can see – I’m a farmer.’

‘You also have the farm shop down in Penhal?’ said Willis.

‘Yes. Supposed to be run by my son Towan, but that’s hit and miss these days.’

‘How does it work if people want to stay at Kellis House?’ asked Willis.

‘Oh, they can’t, not the general public, that is. They wouldn’t contact me directly unless they’ve been before; they always used to come through Jeremy. Just his friends, that’s all. If they know the place and want to come, they ring me and I clear it with Jeremy. I organize for one of the girls to go in and clean it and whatnot. That was what I was writing to the young couple about – I need to know – there are some longstanding, year-after-year bookings which I want to know if I can accept. ‘Tis a bit tricky.’

‘You get a fee for doing that?’

‘Of course. He was always very grateful.’

‘Who do you have booked in at this time of year?’ asked Willis, ready with her pen and notebook.

Stokes looked shifty.

‘Well, I’d need to go and look up their names and this is feeding time and we’re settling the animals down for the night, so I’d appreciate it if you could wait for that answer.’

The sound of squealing and grunting came from beyond the wall to their right.

‘Mawgan, Mawgan . . . get that ruddy sow out of there when you’re seeing to the piglets,’ Stokes shouted. He turned back to them. ‘Stupid mare, she’ll get herself gored to pieces. Never go in there when a sow’s got her young. She’ll charge at you.’