Dry Bones (6 page)

‘Then let me ask you a question, Cornelia. If you decide to let the builders cover it up and build the floor over it, how will you feel about that – knowing it's still there?'

She gave another convulsive shudder, pressed his handkerchief to her mouth. ‘I'd be terrified that it might haunt me. That I'd see it looking in at the windows, tapping at the glass, coming into the house, standing at the end of my bed . . . But I suppose I'd get over it. And it would be worth it to get the barn finished for Rory.'

He realized that she was blind to almost every other consideration and that what she really wanted was for him to tell her that it would be quite all right to leave the skeleton where it was.

‘Do you want to hear my opinion?'

‘That's why I asked you here, Hugh.'

‘You must inform the police at once, Cornelia. Anything else would be highly illegal as well as foolhardy. Even if the skeleton is covered up again, that's no guarantee of the workmen's silence, in which case you could find yourself in serious trouble. The bones may, or may not, be hundreds of years old, like your foreman thinks. We don't know whether it's a man or a woman, how old he or she was, when or how he or she died – from natural causes or otherwise. The law in England requires that all unexplained deaths are investigated by an inquest, a post-mortem and whatever other forensic tests may be necessary to establish the cause of death. I'm very sorry to add to your distress, but that's what you must do.' He paused. ‘In your heart, you know that you must, Cornelia, don't you?'

Her head drooped. ‘I suppose so.'

He said encouragingly, ‘It may not be as drawn-out as you think. Forensic medicine is extremely advanced these days and it shouldn't take long to establish everything about the skeleton. If it's hundreds of years old, they'll soon find that out and then your builders will be able to carry on. Do you see?'

She lifted her head and stared at him. ‘But what I don't see, Hugh, is what on earth it was doing in our barn in the first place.'

I
n the morning, the Colonel walked over to the barn. It was beyond the formal gardens surrounding the house and, on the way, he passed a hard tennis court and a swimming pool, the water glittering blue in the sunshine. The ancient flint stone barn stood in what once must have been a working farmyard. According to Cornelia, there had also been an unsightly collection of shacks and sheds and piggeries which had all been removed. The barn was a fine testament to another age and he was glad that the Danish architect had been prevented from making any drastic changes. The big main doors were shut, but he found a small entrance at one end and stepped inside. When his eyes had adjusted, he could see up into the cavernous roof renovated by the builders. A tall wooden ladder led to the hayloft.

The men had been digging on the other side of the barn and a tarpaulin had been laid across one corner. He went over, pulled it aside and switched on the pocket torch he had brought with him from the Riley.

During his army career, he had seen many dead – the bodies of young soldiers and sometimes those of civilians caught in crossfire; once, a small girl clutching her doll. He had always found it tragic, often heartbreaking.

In this case, the circumstances were different. These were bones. Dry and fleshless bones without identity. He could look at them with complete detachment.

As the foreman had told Cornelia, the skeleton was lying about a foot below the surface. Flat on its back, the Colonel noted, with the skull grinning up at him; hands at its sides, legs out straight. A normal burial position. He crouched down and shone the torch closer, studying it closely. A few fibres were clinging to the bones that might have been the remains of clothing. No hair, but teeth all present and in perfect condition which indicated a young person. No other obvious clues that he could see, though a forensic expert would probably have been rubbing his, or her, hands. He touched nothing, straightened up again and stood looking at the skeleton.

Dem dry bones! Dem dry bones! Dem dry bones! Oh, hear the word of the Lord.
The words came to him from somewhere. A Gospel song, he thought, about how your bones were all connected to each other:

And so on.

There was a chorus, he remembered:

Or something like that. Cornelia wouldn't want to hear any of it, but she had nothing to fear. These bones weren't going to be walking around anywhere, any more.

He stood up again and drew the tarpaulin back in place. Turning away, his foot encountered a chunk of flint stone embedded in the earth. There were others, too, dotted around the floor. No surprise, considering that the barn was built of flint.

‘You saw it?'

‘Yes. It's as your foreman described and definitely human.

We must call the police, Cornelia. Now.'

She was still in her dressing gown and, without the meticulous make-up, she looked much closer to her real age.

‘
Now
? Must we?'

‘I'm afraid so. Would you like me to phone them for you?'

She nodded. ‘You'll be here when they come?'

‘Yes, of course. They'll ask you questions – bound to – but we'll rehearse what you're going to say.'

‘What
am
I going to say, Hugh?'

‘You're going to tell them the truth – not the whole truth perhaps but at least as much of it as is necessary. You'll say that the foreman reported what he had found last Tuesday and that work was stopped immediately on the barn. You'll say that you were extremely shocked and upset by the discovery and couldn't think straight. That your husband is away on the other side of the world on important business and couldn't be consulted and so you decided to contact me, an old friend, to ask for my help. When I arrived on Friday evening, you told me what had happened and I advised you to call the police, which we did this morning. If they ask why you didn't call them sooner, you can say that the foreman told you that, in his opinion, the skeleton had been there for a very long time. Obviously, you won't mention the idea of leaving it there.' He smiled at her reassuringly. ‘Try not to worry, Cornelia. You're doing exactly the right thing now. The
only
thing.'

She went away to dress while he made the call and half an hour later, a police car came up the driveway to the house.

Detective Chief Inspector Rodgers was a short, grey-haired man, dressed in a baggy suit, a shirt with frayed cuffs and an acrylic tie. The very antithesis of the sharply dressed young DI Squibb of the Dorset Police whom the Colonel had encountered in Frog End. Detective Sergeant Collins who accompanied him was young and keen, looking about the room and obviously making mental notes.

Cornelia had reappeared wearing her country casuals, discreet make-up and a distressed expression. The Colonel, watching her politely inviting the policemen to sit down, offering tea or coffee, was fairly sure that she was going to get away with it. He drew up one of the dining chairs and positioned himself at a slight distance from the group – far enough not to seem interfering but close enough to give comfort and support to Cornelia.

The detective chief inspector cleared his throat and the sergeant took out a biro and a notebook. Both men looked uncomfortable on their white sofa – the older perched on its leading edge with his feet anchored to the reindeer skin, the younger sunk somewhere in the middle. The detective chief inspector placed stubby-fingered hands on his knees and took a deep breath, like a heavy sigh.

‘Let's start at the beginning, shall we, Mrs Heathcote? I understand a human skeleton has been found on your premises?'

‘That's right.' Cornelia was keeping her voice just above a whisper.

‘Could you speak a little louder, please. Where exactly?'

The policeman looked and sounded weary, the Colonel thought, as though he'd done it all too many times and for too many years. Very close to retirement, probably. A tired workhorse ready to be put out to grass. He had not been at all ready for it himself, but, according to W.S. Gilbert, a policeman's lot was not a happy one.

‘In our barn. We're having it converted to a games room for our son and the workmen found it when they were putting in flooring. Their foreman came and told me. Apparently, the bones were lying beneath the surface. In his opinion, they had been there for a long time.' Cornelia closed her eyes for a moment. ‘I haven't actually seen them myself.'

The sergeant had wriggled forward to the front of the sofa where he could rest his notebook more easily on his knee. His superior gave him a withering glance.

‘And when did this discovery take place?'

‘Last Tuesday.'

‘
Tuesday?
Today is Saturday, Mrs Heathcote. Why did you delay so long before informing the police?'

She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief – her own, this time. The Colonel hoped that the tears would start to flow in earnest. It could only help.

‘I was extremely shocked and upset . . . I couldn't think straight. My husband is away in Hong Kong on very important business and couldn't possibly be disturbed. I was alone here, except for our two Filipino servants, and I simply didn't know what to do. So I asked the Colonel to come and advise me. He's a very old friend.'

The detective chief inspector turned to look at him, and the Colonel could tell that he was debating just how friendly he and Cornelia were.

‘And when did you arrive, sir?'

‘Yesterday evening. I drove over from my home in Dorset. Mrs Heathcote told me about what had happened after I'd got here. She was, indeed, very shocked and upset – as you can see. I don't blame her, do you, Inspector? The circumstances are extremely unpleasant. I told her that, of course, we must call the police, but it was late in the evening by then and Mrs Heathcote was very tired, as well as upset. It seemed reasonable to wait for the morning and for me to take a look in the barn myself to verify the situation before making the call.'

‘Which you did?'

‘Which I did. The workmen had left the remains exactly as they found them and I could see that it was a complete human skeleton. I didn't touch or disturb anything, by the way.'

DCI Rodgers said grimly, ‘Well, that's something. But I still find it very odd that you didn't call us last Tuesday, Mrs Heathcote, as soon as the foreman reported to you. A human skeleton had been discovered in most unusual and unexplained circumstances. People don't lie down and die and then cover themselves up with earth. And a barn is not a normal burial ground. Why didn't you call us at once?'

The Colonel intervened. ‘As Mrs Heathcote has already said, she wasn't thinking straight. This whole episode has been very distressing for her.'

The detective chief inspector was looking unconvinced. He stared at Cornelia in silence for a moment.

‘How long have you lived in this house, Mrs Heathcote?'

‘Since last October. My husband actually bought the farm three years ago but we had to pull down the old house. It was completely uninhabitable.'

‘And where did you live while this was being done?'

‘In our house in London. In Kensington.'

‘And do you have other residences?'

‘We have a villa in the South of France. Oh, and an apartment in Aspen – but we don't use it very much.'

‘Aspen?'

‘The ski resort in Colorado.'

‘I see.' If he hadn't before, DCI Rodgers had now seen exactly what he was dealing with. ‘So, until you bought this house, you weren't familiar with King's Mowbray?'

‘We'd been here once before to stay with some friends who live in the village. Mr and Mrs Fellows. They happened to tell us about this property being up for sale. My husband was interested in the land for shooting. There's about three hundred acres.'

There was another short silence while this piece of information was digested, along with the several residences.

‘You mentioned a son, Mrs Heathcote.'

‘Yes. Rory.'

‘How old is he?'

‘Nearly eighteen. He's away at Harrow.'

The detective chief inspector nodded. He was evidently more familiar with famous English public schools than with famous American ski resorts.

‘You said that your husband is away in Hong Kong on business. We may need to get in touch with him. Where is he staying?'

‘At the Peninsula hotel. But he won't like being disturbed.'

‘I'm afraid we can't help that, Mrs Heathcote.'

Cornelia dabbed at her eyes again. ‘Will there have to be an inquest, or whatever it's called?'

‘There is always a legal inquiry into any death when the cause is unknown or unnatural.'

‘I don't see how anything can be found out from some old bones.'

‘You'd be surprised what the experts can tell us these days.'

DCI Rodgers levered himself off the sofa. ‘Sergeant Collins and I will take a look in your barn now. Perhaps the Colonel would be good enough to accompany us?'

As they left the house, a second police car came tearing down the driveway. What's all the rush, the Colonel wondered? The skeleton wasn't going anywhere.

He led the way to the barn and the uniformed occupants of the other car hurried after them. The tarpaulin was removed and, again, he shone his torch down on to the skeleton. The detective chief inspector began barking out instructions. Lamps were set up, a photographer began work, two policemen were taping off the area. A man in plain clothes arrived, carrying a doctor's bag. Rather too late for that, the Colonel thought.