It was a while before the door was opened by a thin young man with dark, wavy hair, worn just long enough to cover his ears.
He was dressed like many of his age in what looked like surfing gear – long shorts and a washed out T-shirt – and as soon
as she introduced herself, he stood aside to let her in.
‘Please come through,’ he said like a young actor trying out the role of butler. She sensed he was nervous. But talking to
the police was uncharted territory for most law-abiding kids of that age.
‘I need to ask you about your friends, Barney and Sophie,’ she said as she sat down on a large, shabby sofa.
‘Yeah. It’s terrible what happened.’ He stopped suddenly and looked away. ‘I’ve been meaning to get in touch with the police
but I didn’t know …’
‘What is it?’ Dunstan was looking worried and she held her breath, waiting for him to continue.
‘I was with them last Thursday night … isn’t that when they …’
Trish sat forward. She’d been expecting the usual pieties but now it looked as if she’d struck gold. ‘Go on.’
‘We play this game online. Blood Hunt it’s called. Then a couple of months ago one of my mates Marcus met a guy who was looking
for someone to play it for real.’
‘What’s this person’s name?’
‘I just knew him as the Game Master.’
‘Tell me about Thursday night.’
‘Game Master texted and said they were organising a game up at Catton Hall Holiday Park so I went along.’
‘Just you?’
‘No. He said there were a couple of first-timers going too. Turned out it was Barney and Sophie. He’d tried the others but
they couldn’t make it.’
‘Which others?’
He thought for a moment. ‘Jodie and Marcus.’
‘So Jodie and Marcus knew what was going on. They knew where you’d be?’
‘Suppose so.’
‘Most of your school friends have been interviewed and nobody mentioned anything about this game.’
Dunstan shrugged. ‘Maybe they thought it wasn’t important.’ He didn’t sound very convincing.
‘Let’s get back to last Thursday night.’
‘OK. I met up with Barney and Sophie and Game Master was there with this other bloke. Game Master was in charge and the other
guy was just there watching.’
‘Have you met the other man before?’
‘A couple of times.’
‘Tell me what happened.’
‘We were told to go into the woods, and because it was Barney and Sophie’s first time the Game Master gave them all the spiel
about how we’d be hunted by people with bloodhounds but it was nothing to worry about ’cause the dogs were friendly. We got
paid a hundred quid each and I told them it’d be easy money.’ He stopped and looked away.
‘But it wasn’t?’ She had the feeling that the story was about to turn nasty.
‘All these cars started arriving – some had trailers with quad bikes on – and we were told to go into one of the chalets and
get changed. We could keep our trainers on but we had to take all our clothes off.’
‘So you did as you were told?’
‘A hundred quid’s a lot of cash for a couple of hours’ work. It didn’t bother me ’cause I’d done it before.’
‘But it bothered the others?’
‘We went into the chalet and me and Barney went into one room and Sophie went into another. She didn’t look happy about it
but Barney kept saying it was cool. “Nothing to worry about,” he said. She had a nice body and it was nothing to be ashamed
of,’ he added wistfully.
‘What happened next?’
‘The blokes were waiting outside the chalet. They had a quad bike and they took us up to the woods. They said we’d have a
twenty-minute start and we were told to split up. There were meant to be three targets, you see. I thought I’d try and double
back towards the chalets and I saw Barney and Sophie go off in the other direction together. I could tell she was scared so
I don’t suppose he wanted to leave her. I said they’d get into trouble about it but Barney took no notice. Then I went off.’
‘Were you caught?’
‘Eventually. It was a big bloke on a quad bike and he said something like “bang, bang, you’re dead”. The dog knocked me down
on the ground and started licking me. He smelled at bit and slobbered all over me but, I love dogs and, like I said, I’ve
done it before so I knew what to expect. Anyway, the bloke who caught me gave me a ride back to base on the quad bike and
I went back to the chalet to put my clothes back on. Then I collected my hundred quid from the Game Master.’
‘Were Barney’s and Sophie’s clothes still there in the chalet when you got back?’
‘Yeah. I waited for them for a bit but when they didn’t
turn up, I got fed up and drove home. I’d borrowed my dad’s Land Rover to get there.’
‘Did you hear any shots?’
‘Yeah, but I didn’t take much notice. You hear shots all the time out in the country.’
‘And you can’t remember what time you heard these shots?’
He shook his head. ‘I wasn’t taking much notice. I was too busy trying not to get caught.’
‘I’ll need you to describe the people who organised the hunt.’
‘The Game Master’s a big bloke with cropped hair … fair. He wore a checked shirt.’
‘Local accent?’
‘He sounded quite posh.’
‘What about the other man?’
‘He didn’t say much. And he didn’t look too happy.’
‘Description?’
‘Average height. Ginger hair and freckles.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I think the Game Master called him Rich.’
‘Did you see anybody with a firearm?’
Another shake of the head, more vigorous this time.
‘What do you think happened, Dunstan?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe they were hiding in the trees and someone out shooting mistook them for animals.’
‘But you said the people hunting you weren’t armed?’
‘They weren’t, but there might have been other people about – out after vermin or – I don’t know.’
The lad looked as if he was on the verge of tears.
‘You’re going to have to give us a proper statement, Dunstan. And my boss might want to speak to you. Is there anything else
you can remember? Anything at all?’
‘I’ve told you everything. I wish I knew what happened to them but I don’t and all I keep thinking about is it could have
been me. If whoever killed them had found me before that bloke on the quad bike did …’
When the tears began to stream down his face, Trish put a comforting hand on his bare arm, feeling an almost maternal urge
to comfort him, which quite surprised her.
Wesley felt frustrated as he set out for Catton Hall to discover more about Dunstan Price’s allegations. Until Keith Marsh
regained consciousness, or Tessa Trencham got in touch, that particular inquiry had hit a dead end. But the mystery woman
in Morbay was preying on his mind, just like the deaths of Barney and Sophie.
Gerry was in the passenger seat and, after a long wait for the car ferry, they eventually arrived at the entrance to Catton
Hall Holiday Park. A sad place, Wesley thought, like a run-down seaside pier. All that fun; all those holiday memories turned
to weeds and rotting wood. Catton Hall was also the home of Richard Catton, the man who’d neglected to call him as requested.
Perhaps he’d forgotten; or perhaps he had a more sinister reason for avoiding the police. Dunstan Price had told Trish about
a ‘Rich’ who was the Game Master’s right-hand man. Richard Catton fitted the bill perfectly.
He parked on an area of grass just inside the gates and walked slowly down the drive. They carried on past the trees until
they reached the field where Neil and his team were working away in a long trench. The artists were still there watching the
scene with earnest faces, almost as though they hadn’t moved since Wesley had seen them last, frozen in time and concentration.
As the two policemen
walked towards the trench, the artists didn’t appear to notice, absorbed as they were in their own small world, unlike the
archaeologists who all raised their heads to watch the newcomers. Neil gave a cheerful wave as Wesley made his way over the
field and called out a greeting.
‘How’s it going?’
Neil nodded towards the artists and lowered his voice. ‘This set-up gives me the creeps, it really does. Dave’s gone back
to the fort and I can’t say I blame him.’
‘Are you down to the picnic level yet?’
‘We’re nearly there but Orford won’t let us take any short cuts. He wants the whole excavation experience.’ He rolled his
eyes.
‘We could take part if you like,’ said Gerry who had walked over to stand beside Wesley. ‘I could take off my clothes and
strike an artistic pose in your trench.’
‘I think that’d be a step too far even for Orford,’ Neil said with a smirk.
‘We’re on our way to Catton Hall to have a word with Richard Catton,’ said Wesley.
‘He rang you then?’
‘Not yet. And we need a word.’
Neil suddenly frowned as though there was something on his mind. ‘Er … this might be nothing but I saw Richard with a carrier
bag full of clothes. He said they belonged to some backpackers who’d been staying in one of the old chalets but … Those kids
were found naked, weren’t they?’
‘One of their mates told us they got changed in a chalet,’ said Wesley.
Neil raised his eyebrows. ‘I think Richard dropped a piece of underwear. It’s still there if you want to have a look.’ He
began to climb out of the trench. ‘If Orford says
anything, I’ll tell him I’m helping the police with their inquiries.’
He led the way across the field to the disintegrating wire fence, erected to keep stray balls and wandering children out of
the Cattons’ private estate. They stepped through a broken-down section into that other, neglected world.
When they reached the chalet in question, Neil took a furtive look around before giving the door a violent push. It flew open
and Neil hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.
‘It’s in there,’ he said, opening one of the doors at the back and stepping aside to give the two policeman a better view.
Wesley stepped into the room and squatted down. The bra lay on the dusty floor, lacy, pink and fairly new. He took a pen from
his pocket, picked it up and dropped it into a plastic evidence bag. ‘If it’s Sophie’s we’ll know for sure where they got
undressed. And if it is hers, it looks as though Catton’s been trying to get rid of the evidence.’
Gerry’s phone rang and he fumbled to answer it. Wesley and Neil watched, listening to the brief, one-sided conversation and
trying to work out whether the news that had just been imparted was good or bad.
Eventually Gerry ended the call. ‘Our search team’s found bloodstains in the woods and some shot embedded in a tree trunk,
but there’s no sign of any empty cartridges so the murderer must have taken them with him. Very inconsiderate. We could have
done with some nice fingerprints.’
Neil looked at his watch. ‘I’d better get back before Orford starts complaining,’ he said. ‘And, boy, does he complain if
things aren’t done exactly as he wants them.’
The three men stepped outside the chalet, closing the door behind them and Neil hurried off, back to his trench and his strict
taskmaster.
‘We need to see Catton. We’ll try the hall first.’
‘If he has something to hide he won’t have gone far. He’ll be like a nervous hen, wondering when someone’s going to uncover
his little secret.’
Wesley knew Gerry was probably right. They made their way back past the chalets and through the gap in the fence, skirted
the edge of the field where the strange dig was taking place, and walked along the potholed driveway to Catton Hall.
This time their luck was in. Catton himself answered the door and Wesley held up his ID. ‘I left a message for you to call
me, Mr Catton.’
The man looked nervous. ‘I’ve been meaning to but … er, I’ve been busy.’
‘Well, we’re here now,’ said Gerry with a grim smile. ‘Can we come in?’
‘Nice house,’ Wesley said as they were led into the hall.
Catton turned. ‘The bloody roof leaks. And it’s Grade Two listed so I can’t touch the place without being watched by an army
of conservation officers,’ he said with a hint of bitterness.
‘It belongs to your father?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is he in?’
‘He’s having one of his bad days. He’s upstairs in bed.’
‘Sorry to hear that. I believe you only moved back here recently.’
‘Someone needs to take charge of the place.’
‘Your family owns the holiday park?’
‘The freehold yes. The company who used to run it didn’t want to renew the lease so I’m going to knock the chalets down and
replace them with something more up to date. People want a bit of luxury nowadays. They won’t put up with “cheap and cheerful”.
I’ve got a mate in marketing who thinks it’s a winning idea so … It should keep this place afloat anyway,’ he said looking
round. ‘And perhaps I’ll open the house to the public, once I’ve had a chance to make it look decent.’
‘I hear you’ve been letting some of the chalets out to backpackers.’
Suddenly the man’s eyes flickered towards the door, as though he was searching for an escape route. ‘Yeah. I can’t charge
them much but at least something’s coming in.’
‘What about the artists in your field?’
‘Kevin Orford’s high profile so the publicity he generates can’t do the place any harm. And he’s paying handsomely, although
I can’t quite work out why.’
Catton led them into a library with a low-beamed ceiling and shelves packed with ancient, leather-bound volumes around all
four walls, punctuated only by a huge stone fireplace carved with a coat of arms. It smelled of musty books, and close to
the fireplace a pair of threadbare brown velvet sofas stood on a fraying rug of indeterminate pattern. A massive oak desk
in the corner stood laden with files, papers and old books, as though someone had been working there and had just stepped
out for a moment.
‘This is one of the few decent rooms, I’m afraid. My father’s let the place go. Lack of funds.’
Wesley caught Gerry’s eyes as he sat down and the DCI gave him a small nod. It was up to him to do the talking.
‘We had a look inside one of your chalets.’