Read Online Tainted Ground by Margaret Duffy - Free Book Online Page A

after rabbits and pheasants in those days.’
    â€˜Oh, I didn’t expect you to apologize,’ Patrick said and rose to his feet. ‘Chief Inspector Carrick should be searching the farmhouse and other outbuildings right now and if he finds anything that incriminates you I assure you I’ll be back.’
    On the way out the dog gazed up at him and, fleetingly, Patrick’s long fingers gently stroked its head.

Four
    â€˜I s that true?’ I asked when we were in the car.
    â€˜Of course.’
    â€˜Why didn’t your father call the police?’
    â€˜Because he had an idea Barney Stonelake knocked his wife around, Vera often coming to church with bruises that she explained away by saying how clumsy she was getting. I seem to remember I was given the usual anaesthetic, a tot of whisky, and sent along to the doctor’s. The pellets had only just penetrated my skin and GPs did that kind of first aid in those days.’
    â€˜It must have been when your parents first moved to the village and you were sort of between the police and the army.’
    â€˜Yes, I was living at home for a few weeks. I suppose there was a wish on their part, being quite newly arrived, not to make too many unpleasant waves.’
    â€˜I’m still surprised you didn’t go and sort him out yourself.’
    â€˜I do as my mum and dad tell me even now, don’t I?’
    I had to smile. ‘Prejudice apart, what d’you make of him?’
    â€˜I think I have to agree with Elspeth’s view – he’s a nasty piece of work.’
    â€˜He could be involved in the killings.’
    â€˜Easily – my only reservations being whether he’d be stupid enough to agree to have something like that happen right on his own doorstep.’
    Well, perhaps not so close to home after all. We were surprised to discover that the old farmhouse was situated at least a quarter of a mile from the scene of the killings, later explained when we found out that the old barn that had been demolished to make way for the new one had originally belonged to an ancient steading not part of Hagtop Farm, the amalgamation having occurred in the eighteenth century.
    We were using our own vehicle, a Range Rover, Patrick having not been issued with official transport, something he would not have wanted as his cars – except those he might use for a very short journey – have to be adapted due to the lower part of his right leg being man-made following the serious injuries he sustained during the Falklands War. This meant that we did not have to pick our way on foot through all the deeply rutted mud in the lane or get stuck in it, as Carrick’s car appeared to have done, instead driving between all the other parked vehicles, through the gateway and right up to the front door. Through the uncurtained windows the now familiar figures of forensic personnel wearing white protective clothing could be seen moving about.
    â€˜What the hell’s happened out there – have they been making a film about the Great War?’ Patrick demanded to know of the constable on duty by the front door, jerking his head in the direction of the mired lane.
    â€˜Apparently an oil-delivery lorry going to the cottage farther up got stuck there a couple of days ago, sir, and so did the recovery vehicle for a while.’
    â€˜Have you seen the DCI?’
    â€˜He’s in the yard somewhere, sir.’ He pointed around the side of the house.
    Carrick and Lynn Outhwaite were examining the interior of what appeared to have been an open-fronted cart shed, latterly used for tractors judging by the oily patches on the earthen floor. Hay was stacked up against the rear wall. Lynn spotted our approach and waved a discreet greeting.
    â€˜Any luck at the mill?’ Carrick said to Patrick.
    â€˜No, insofar as no one seems to have heard or seen anything suspicious on Thursday night, but not everyone was at home. We’ll have